What Happens in Vegas
by pavarotti
Summary: Blaine offers money for a small-town stripper to spend three nights with him in Las Vegas. Little does he know that in such a small amount of time that awkward romance could lead into things he told himself he'd never have again, like love.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Alrighty, about 1/3 of this was written on paper. I just so happened to be in my room watching The Center of the World on IFC when the whole "pay a stripper to go to Vegas" seemed like a fantastic idea. I will admit that the characters are a bit OOC, but hopefully when things progress things will get canon. And please, for the love of all that is holy (like cheese), do not tell me how strip clubs work. I've never been to a strip club. I don't give a shit about what happens in strip clubs. Just deal, please, for my sanity? Please enjoy what I like to call "Brittany getting over her fucking life and trying to write something that may actually stick around to see the end". Enjoy and don't be scared to tell me what you thought. Motivation is how this monster will stick around.

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Glee or it's characters then I wouldn't need a disclaimer, now would I?

* * *

**What Happens in Vegas**

I often wished for a time machine, or a mystical wizard. I'd even take a fairy god-mother at this point. I'd take _anything_ if it could somehow point me into the right direction. And I'd go that direction, even if it led me straight to my death. I just needed to get out of this office, get out of the room that I shared with my father, get away from him and his suffocating glares.

I knew immediately after collage that accepting my father's offer in helping him run his business was a mistake, but honestly at that time I was only worried about paying my bills and making sure my car had a full tank of gas in it. I was selfish. I'm _still_ selfish—I'm just finally using my brain this time. I spend half my time hating my job and wanting to quit it and the other drowning in the possible circumstances of my father turning me into a eunuch or worse…he'd probably make me run for mayor. Whatever choice I made, I wouldn't be able to get away from him.

That's the whole point of growing up though, isn't? To get away from parents. To make big-boy or big-girl decisions. To take responsibility and taste regret.

So far I've done most these things but it's as if subconsciously my father is making those choices for me, like he's whispering in my ear to wake up at five in the morning and come to work. I mostly fight with him when I do.

Today had particularly been a bad one. Whilst in the middle of a phone call for a compromise in London, my dad busted into my office with a red face. He signaled for me to hang up and I took my time doing so, determined to close the deal so I wouldn't have him up my butt days later about it. The last time I couldn't get a partner site from some honky-tonk town that wasn't even on the map he nearly threw a rogue stapler at my head. To this day there's a rectangular scar on my office wall.

After finishing up the call two minutes later (getting the deal might I add, which would have given me brownie points with my father if he hadn't been so angry for some stupid reason) I looked up at him and he was still bright red, resembling a carnival balloon animal.

He walked over to my desk and slammed a fist onto it. "What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you're doing to this company?"

"Bringing in endorsements…getting sponsors…making money…" I pondered off and picked up my cellphone, mindlessly musing over my emails and other pointless apps.

Suddenly colors were flying at my face, landing on my desk and everywhere else around me. I picked one of them up and muttered the word, "Oh."

"_Oh? Oh_ you had no idea that there were cameras at that party? _Oh _you didn't know that someone could easily take out their phone and take pictures of two fags? _Oh_ you didn't think twice about what you were doing?"

I flipped the scandalous picture of me and on other over and looked away from him, feeling embarrassed.

He took a deep breath of air and suddenly I was thinking "big-bad-wolf" to myself. If only I had a house made of bricks to run and hide in. Fortunately he didn't yell, he just sat down and motioned for me to pick up all the photos, which I so willingly did, hastily sticking them through the shredder.

The noise was loud and uncomfortable, but it was necessary to destroy whatever evidence landed in our hands.

"Where did you get them?" I asked him.

He put a fist under his chin and fondled with all my pens and pencils in a mug with a serious looking chimpanzee on it with the caption "stop monkying around" above it. Wes had gotten it as a joke, a sort of mocking knick-knack about my father. I had a few things like this; ironically hilarious motivational posters, pencil toppers, an over-weight bobble head that had a butt crack showing. They had all been given by other co-workers whenever something worthy of celebrating happened at the office. I'm surprised my father hasn't caught on.

He stopped with the pencils and moved onto the bobble head. "Facebook of course. Lidia was doing her weekly check up on the employees when she happened upon photos for Ryan's birthday party last weekend."

"Oh." Repetition on my part, but it's the only word that would actually come out of my mouth.

"Why would you do something so stupid?" he asked quietly. I looked at him and felt a crease in my forehead.

"Do what? Make out with someone at a party full of drunks?" There was a flash in his eyes and immediately I knew what he had meant. "Or make out with a _guy_? Is that the problem?"

He leaned in. "I love you, son, you know this. But must you go and do things like that?"

"This is so typical you, dad! You wouldn't be on my case right now if I had been kissing a girl. Am I right?"

He didn't answer me.

"That's what I thought. I'm gay. I have been all my life. You've done a pretty good job accepting this throughout the years…why is it such a problem now? The business? Fuck! Everyone here knows I'm into guys. No one cares!"

"I do!" he retorted. "What happens when possible cliental realizes that the heir of this company is off screwing men?"

"Heir?" I asked, not really caring about anything else.

He nodded and tore of his glasses, running a shaky hand through his salt and pepper hair. "I have plans for you, Blaine. This company can't be mine forever. It's going to need a new owner when I'm no longer capable of taking care of it. But when you're doing the things you do…"

I glared. "Have you ever thought that maybe I don't want to take your place?"

His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth. "Blaine! You have to! Who else will I—?"

"Get to play slave-boy? I don't know, but I'm sure there are plenty of workers out there that would willingly commit crimes just so they could have it. And I'm sure that none of them would be caught sucking dick."

I stood up and threw my jacket on, shoving my phone into my pocket and patting all the others to make sure I had my wallet and keys. "I'm taking my lunch now."

I stormed out of my office and left my father behind, who was probably trying to fight back a stroke or a heart attack. I didn't care.

As I passed a few cubicles, familiar faces looked at me, obviously knowing about what had just happened with my father. I ignored them and stopped by Wes's cube. He was on Farmville, intent on making his crops grow or milking his cows or some shit. I slapped a hand on his shoulder and he hit the 'x' button immediately. He turned and realized it was me and took a deep breath.

"Fuck. I thought you were the boss," he said.

I grinned. "Get your jacket. Get your Robin. We're going out for a couple of beers."

He smiled back and pulled out his phone, sending a text to David. His head popped up from a cubicle three rows away and he gave two thumbs up at us before heading to where we were. We exited the building, the two throwing bar names out as we all tried to decide where to go.

"It's not even lunch time. How in the world did you convince the boss to let us leave early?" Wes asked as we stopped at his car.

I smiled and opened the passenger door. "I didn't."

Wes closed his door. "Nope. Back to work, let's go."

"Let loose, man. We all know that Blaine is going to be running this place soon enough," David said as he threw himself into the backseat. I followed and took my seat, shutting the door behind me and putting my seat belt on. It took Wes a little coaxing from us but he finally got in.

Before he could turn the key and start the ignition he turned his head to me. "Where are we going?"

I shrugged and looked back at David. He pursed his lips and let his eyes make an attempt to roll back into his head. "Hmm. What about Fire and Ice?"

I snorted. "That's a gay bar, Dee."

"And it's a strip club," Wes added.

"A strip club for gays."

"Gays that strip for other gays."

"Not for straight boys."

"Not for straight boys who are taking an unmerited lunch."

"Shut up, you two," David ordered. "We're going to a fucking gay bar, boys. We only have an hour lunch, so let's go."

Wes and I gave each other a look and sighed in sync. He turned the car on and headed out of the company parking lot. It didn't take us long to get to the club/bar/naked boy city, but it took us awhile to find an appropriate spot to sit at. David insisted that we get seats right next to the stage, but both Wes and I told him how awkward that would be.

We settled for a table in the back. I was stuck facing them and the stage, getting easily distracted but whatever hot body came out and presented itself with a little dancy thing and then nudity.

A Chippendale looking waiter walked over to us, a delicious smile on his face and smoldering eyes. I would have flirted with him if it weren't for the obvious fact that he was as high as the sky. We all ordered beers and gratefully drank them.

"Sarah sent me a BBM," David started. "Said that Lidia was Facebook stalking and came across those photos of you and Jared nearly buttfucking."

I nodded. "Yeah. That sucked. The boss started to hop the line between homophobia and work. He insinuated that every company we try to get onboard with us hate gays or something stupid like that. And then he told me that when he croaks he doesn't want a publicly Gaylord like me running his business."

Wes shook his head. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure. I think I may quit." David choked on his beer and narrowed his eyes at me.

"You can't quit! Do you know what happens to Batman and I if you do? We are fucked. Your father will sale our flesh to make blankets with."

"Or fire us…" Wes added.

"You two are so dramatic," I stated. "He'll probably try to convince you two to take my place."

"If anyone is being dramatic it's you," Wes pointed out. "What is your problem today? You fight with your dad all the time! Why all the sudden "quit" talk?"

I shrugged and took a sip of my beer, detesting it suddenly. "I've always had the idea of quitting in my head, but now I'm thinking of actually doing something about it."

David leaned back in his chair, the legs coming up off the floor and his arms going behind his head as he glanced over at a guy who had been staring at him with interest. David wasn't gay, but it was obvious that he was willing to try something new. His girlfriend probably wouldn't like that.

"I just don't get it," David said, looking back at me.

"I'm twenty-six years old. You would have thought that I'd done something meaningful with my life by now."

David gave me that whole shut-the-fuck-up look and I so dearly wanted to tip his chair over. "And what things would that be, hmm?"

I glared at him and turned my attention to Wes, who seemed more interested in the things I had to say (that didn't mean he actually was but I liked to pretend that he cared).

"Shouldn't I be in law school or medical school? Shouldn't I be trying to become something bigger than me?"

Wes shook his head. "Those are things your father would have picked out for you if he'd gotten the chance or if he never of started up the business. You chose to be one of those twenty-six year olds who actually give a shit to what happens in their life."

"Exactly!" David jumped in, letting his chair fall back on all fours. He leaned forward and stared at me like he was trying to see into my soul, which I found oddly disturbing and intriguing. "You get to decide what you want, Blaine. Not your dad, not your mom, not your step-dad. _Youuuu_."

"News flash, I know this. That's my problem. I can't decide what to do with my life, or what I _want_ to do with it for that matter." My back fell against the velvet of the chair and I grabbed my beer, instantly welcoming the bitter and soothing taste.

Wes sighed and sat up, putting some random cash on the table. "David and I have to go back to work and you-" I made an attempt to stand up and follow but his hands fell onto my shoulders and pushed me back down. "You stay. Enjoy the buffet of men."

I shook my head. "No, I need to get back to work. My dad's probably having spasms and taking it out on everyone else." I tried to stand up but David took his turn in forcing me to sit. I glared at him.

"Seriously, dude… You need to relax. Ever hear the term "sexually frustrated"?"

I gasped. "I'm not sexually frustrated!" A few eyes flashed to us and I willing stayed in my seat, only to go lower and hide underneath the table (all of that was in my head, but I still sat and looked like I was about to die).

"Dude, you need to sort your shit. I can't be having you quit on us and leaving us to face the beast of the mouth…mouth of the beast?" David glanced at Wes for correction but he only shrugged. "Take a few days off and think about stuff."

Wes approved with a nod of his head. "Yeah, go some place exciting. Like Vegas!"

David looked like he was about to explode. "Totally! Get drunk. Make money. Get bitches…_douches?_" Once again he turned to his Batman to make sure what he was saying was accurate. Batman never knows when it comes to his Robin.

"I can't just go to Vegas for the hell of it. I've got too much going on here."

"Go. Or we'll take you ourselves," Wes threatened. I shook my head.

"Sit here, get a lap dance, have a few beers and think about it. Call us in the morning, kay, cupcake?" David finished off his beer and pushed Wes away from the table, the two of them leaving me alone in a gay bar full of naked gays. I had never hated men in general so much in my life.

It got worse once some of the guys here realized that I was alone. They were like vultures, circling my table, just waiting for gay-boy's straight friends to leave him, unable to fend for himself, unable to resist shirtless boys. It didn't take long for one of them to approach me.

He was cute, but boy was he small. He wore a black corset that came to a stop just below his nipples. Het matched that with a pair of yellow skin tight jeans with ballet flats. His auburn hair was combed and very neat. Even though his skin was pale and spotted with red on his cheeks, he looked rather healthy.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, his voice soft and angelic. He raised an eyebrow and smirked at me. He obviously wasn't a waiter. I shook my head.

"No, um, thanks."

He frowned and came closer to me, taking a seat on my knee as he wrapped his arms around my neck. He pouted at me, his blue eyes looking sadly into mine. I could feel my flesh burn, mostly from the awkward situation and the sudden turn on that this guy was.

"What's your name?" he asked me, smacking his lips as pulled himself off me. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at me. I could only shift my leg to hide the budding hard on.

"Uh, Anderson." I stopped to clear my throat, "Blaine Anderson."

He put out a white, lithe hand and I slowly took it in mine. It was so soft and small, and oddly cold, probably because mine was aflame with a million emotions. "Kurt."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt," I said with a shake of an already shaky hand.

He smiled and nodded. "Why did you come to a strip club if you don't want the attention?"

I was caught off guard by the question. I felt my eyebrow raise and he laughed a breathy chuckle. "Since you've been here you've been avoiding any eye contact from anyone. And when your buddies left you looked like you could just die. Your eyes have been glued to the exit."

"Oh." I think that's the only word in my dictionary today. I cleared my throat. "My friend suggested we come here and I thought it would be okay…but then they left me and now all I want to do is turn invisible."

The stripper, Kurt, took a seat in front of me and stole a swig off my beer. He moaned and I watched him swallow, feeling myself shiver as I did so.

"Are you gay, Mr. Anderson?" he asked. I smiled at him and nodded my head. "I know you are. I just wanted to see you admit it."

Silence followed then and I tried my hardest not to look at him. His flirtatious eyes and lickable lips were just far too much for me. Everyone was right. I _am_ sexually frustrated. Sure Jared and I had had an intense make out session at Ryan's party, but we only kissed. Dry humping is more of a boner kill then not dry humping at all.

I noticed a blonde get up from a table full of older men. He started to walk toward a red door and one of the men from the table followed. There were sounds of hooting and hollering from the group as the two made their way into whatever it was that the door led to. I watched as the blonde, who was rocking just a pair of jeans and cowboy boots, shut the door once the man was in. The revelry at the table was even louder and I heard a man shout, "Save some for me!"

"What's back there?" I asked.

Kurt's eyes followed my finger and he smiled. Looking back at me he leaned in and motioned for me to do the same. I could feel the edge of the table digging into my rib cage but I didn't care.

"It's a place where our customers can get better service," he whispered seductively.

"Where people hook up?" I guessed.

He pulled back and looked at my lips, licking his own. "Want to go take a peek?"

I nodded thoughtlessly.

He stood up, my beer in hand, and started to walk to that red door. It took me a minute to get myself to stand up but I did, noticing how farther away the door seemed to get with each step. I kept my head down when we passed the table full of rowdy men. They made a few minor comments about wanting to fuck Kurt, which probably would have bothered me if it weren't for the fact that I had just agreed to fuck him myself.

It was dark behind the door, a black light illuminating a hallway. I glanced down and noticed that my shirt was glowing purple. As we passed blacked doors I could hear noises of pleasure coming from them, which caused my stress/nerve/horny levels to go up about three-hundred notches.

Kurt stopped at the end of the hallway and opened the door. "Come on in."

He disappeared inside the room and I slowly made my way in, doing as he asked by shutting the door. He instructed for me to take a seat on what looked like a large leather couch. I couldn't tell; the lights were off except for a nauseating black light.

Before I knew it Kurt was on my lap, his hands on my shoulder and his lips on my neck. Immediately my hands turned into fists as my sides and I tried my hardest not to moan. There was a soft beat coming from somewhere, and Kurt rocked his hips with the tempo, his thighs rubbing against mine and his cock pressing into mine.

My neck was on fire and his lips felt like ice against it, and I laughed about the whole Fire and Ice thing. I'm pretty sure they didn't name the club after my sexual activities, but it was still ironic.

"What's so funny?" Kurt asked, breathing against my neck. I shuttered.

"Nothing," I whispered, moving my head so his lips could find mine. Dear God, his lips! They were so soft and so light and so exciting. But below more exciting things were happening.

His hips were pounding into mine slowly, causing friction against our legs. I could feel his erection against mine. I snaked my hands to the button his jeans and he slapped them, pulling away from my lips, evidently making me hiss.

"Nuh-uh. No touching," he said with a torturing tone. Instead his hands fumbled with my pants, his hands easily unloosing the belt and before I knew it his hand was wrapped around my cock, receiving my opened mouth kisses as I moaned at the touch.

But there wasn't something right about this. Something that had my stomach growing in knots.

"Stop," I said, pulling his hand away.

He panted and put his hands up, his eyes wide in worry. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

I shook my head and sort of pushed him off my lap. He really was far too light to hit the spot next to me without making a loud noise. I buttoned up my pants and zipped the zipper, fastening the belt quicker than I ever had before.

"I don't understand…" Kurt said, his eyes rather sad for a guy who gets naked for a living.

I sighed and smiled at him, putting my hand against his. "It's not you, it's me. I just can't do this. Not here, at least."

He nodded and made the 'oh' face but didn't say it, which made me happy. I wondered about him then. He was small and clearly young, but how old exactly? Maybe twenty, but he seemed younger. I hoped he wasn't some sixteen year old boy who'd lied to work here. That'd make me feel even worse. I wondered why he was stripping, but like the rest of us he was probably trying to make a living.

I also wondered how much he made and if it was enough. I didn't really have to worry about money, what with the fact that my father was a borderline millionaire and I just so happened to be making nearly thirty five bucks an hour. Money was something I rarely worried about. But I bet for someone like Kurt, it was the center of his world—but not by choice.

I fell for the guy and reached for my wallet in my back pocket, pulling out some money.

"Here," I said to him, handing him the bills as I put the wallet back.

He took the money and looked at it. "Why would you give me three-hundred dollars? I didn't do anything except sexually frustrate you." I was suddenly really starting to hate that word, mostly because it was far too true for my liking.

Suddenly a crazy idea was born. The parents? Batman and Robin.

"What if I gave you more?" I asked him hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow. "How much more?"

"Ten thousand dollars more."

He coughed, almost as if he was choking. "Are you kidding? Who put this up to you?" Instantly he was angry. "Puck? I'm going to slit his throat!"

He stood up and headed to the black door. I leaned over and grabbed his soft hand before he could touch the doorknob. He stopped and looked at me, probably mentally questioning my sanity.

"No one put me up to this," I replied.

"Then why would you offer me so much?" A spark in his eyes a beat later and he was changing the direction of his questions. "What do you want from me?"

I bit my thumb nail and motioned for him to take a seat. He shook his head and stayed near the door. I sighed and put my hands on my knees, trying to stop them from shaking I guess.

"Vegas. Come with me."

I don't know when I decided to go, but going with this complete stranger was too intriguing to put behind me. I'd only known him for less than half an hour but already he was driving me wild. He repositioned his bangs and smoothed his palms against his pants before he walked over and sat beside me. The couch didn't budge as he took his seat, which wasn't a surprise. He was so small. And as light as a feather. What I would give to feel him on top of me. Feel his hands against my chest, my cock inside him…

"You want me to sleep with you?"

I freaked for a moment, thinking that he could read my mind. But then I realized that was ridiculous.

I could feel my cheeks burn. "Yeah…that's kind of the whole point."

He glared and laughed. "I'm a stripper, Mr. Anderson. I don't fuck for cash."

I narrowed my eyes back. "You seemed pretty willing to give me a hand job a few minutes ago."

"That's different. I wasn't on my knees letting you go balls deep. I'm obliged to tease. I'm a stripper!"

_Yes, so you've said. _"No one likes a tease," I stated. He looked away and continued to fondle the cash I had so kindly given him. I stood up and pulled my wallet out again, grabbing a white card from the back slot.

"Three days. Three nights. That's all I'm asking." I flipped the card into his direction and picked up my jacket. "Let me know if you change your mind."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **This is a rather lame and rushed chapter, but that's because it's a filler. I can't say when the next update will be. Probably next week. I'll bring sexy times. And an old Kurt we all remember.

I want to say thank you to everyone who's alerted/favorited/reviewed. I had a major fear that this would just go unnoticed and I'd be very, very sad. But I've gotten nothing but a positive response so I thank you all for that. Don't be scared to ask questions or praise...or hell, even knock me down a few peggs, though that would suck very much so and I'd go sit in the bath and cry. And no one wants that. Especially my bath.

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I feared going back to work, but all of that was put to rest when I received a phone call just as I stepped off the bus. David and Wes had taken Wes' car back to work, which I hadn't even thought of being a problem until after I left the strip club. I was forced to take the bus, which wasn't that big of a deal—it just made me late to work. I roamed my pockets until I found the one that was buzzing and I answered it, hearing my father's voice on the other end.

"I need you to do something for me," he said.

"What?" I asked, spotting the building that I had to go into. I crossed the busy street, checking for cars.

"Go home."

I paused mid-step, a car honking as I blocked the path and jogged the rest of the way. "What? But I'm here. I know I'm late and stuff…"

"I need you to take a few days off. This bad air between us isn't good for anyone."

"Me taking time off of work isn't going to change that," I stated.

"Yeah, I know, but your mom's been telling me that you've been stressed. I don't need my son having a heart attack before I do. Take a week or two off, with pay, and then we'll talk about things. All right?"

I had my hand on the handle of the large glass door. I could have ignored him and opened it, returning to my work that I loathed. But I didn't open the doors. Instead I agreed that I'd take some time off, some _much_ needed time off.

I hung up with my father and turned on a heel, heading to the parking lot. I got into my car and drove off, trying to decide what to do with the rest of my day. I had nearly five more hours of work until I would be forced to go to my mother's and Tom's, but now it was just five hours of nothing. I could go home, but once there I wouldn't want to leave again.

I decided to run some errands. My fridge and cupboards were rather empty, and I had a few socks that were starting to sport some holes.

Though, to my luck I wasn't slow at shopping. I never stared at two similar products, trying to decipher which one was better or worthy of paying more. It was just a habit to put the most familiar objects into the hand basket and be done with it.

Self-checkout was a Godsend. I didn't have to deal with the slow ass cashiers or the stupid bag-boys who always put my bread with my shampoo. If I wanted cheese and turkey on crackers then I would have bought crackers, not fucking whole wheat bread. Plus self-checkout didn't make me feel self-conscious about the things I purchased, like socks. I mean, what must cashiers think when I put a package of socks next to my milk? Especially when I'm doing this every month. They're probably thinking, "Why does he go through so many socks? What on Earth could he be doing with them?" That's when things get awkward. Why else would socks go fast for a male? And I don't even use them for masturbation! I just don't wear shoes all the time, and I hate having bare feet against my kitchen and bathroom tiles.

Like I said, self-checkout equals a miracle for men who live on their own.

Against my will I was at my apartment, only to put things away. I would have stayed and got out of my suit, but I knew that as soon as I was naked thoughts of Kurt would be back and I'd probably be tempted to kill a sock or two…_which I don't do._ I left again, driving to the only place where I really had an option to go.

My mom lived about twenty minutes away in Westerville. It was nice to be in the familiar town. I passed by an old church - which I never stepped a foot in but I still admired its beauty – and sighed. I was being dramatic with the nostalgia, what with the fact that I was in this town nearly three times a week, but after hours in Columbus you start to miss the small things.

I spotted Tom checking the mail and waved to him as I pulled the car up into the driveway.

"Blaine! What are you doing here so early?" he asked as he walked up to me, a big smile on his face. I got of my car and shut the door, locking it as I met him the rest of the way.

"Hey, aren't you glad to see me?" I teased. He laughed and gave me a quick hug. Tom had been the man my mom remarried me when she and my father divorced when I was five. He was a good man, almost better than my own father, though I wouldn't admit that to anyone in this family.

We both walked into the house, the sounds of dogs barking. Two black labs came up to me and started to sniff me, their heads ramming into my legs and forcing me to nearly fall over. Tom laughed at me and eventually we both made it through and into the living room, where my mother was dusting. She was a bit of a clean freak, which was ironic because she owned probably two of the messiest dogs on the planet.

"What in the world are you doing here so early?" Clearly I'm a work slut.

"Dad told me to take a vacation. I obliged." She opened her mouth to speak. I would not let that happen. "Where's Lucy?"

My mom sighed and pulled her curly hair into a clip, flicking her wrist to the direction of the stairs. I grinned and bowed my head, prancing up the stairs.

I could hear the sound of a piano and the soft voice of Lucy from her bedroom. I tapped on the door but didn't get a response. I opened it and spotted her in front of her laptop, her electric piano I had gotten her for Christmas in front of her. She was singing a song I wasn't familiar with, but she still sang it beautifully.

She looked at herself on the computer and stopped playing, snapping her head back to me.

"Don't you know how to knock?" she hissed, standing up and pushing the stop button on her laptop and turning to face me, her hands on her hips.

"I did. You didn't hear me," I said as I walked farther into her room, picking up a picture frame of her and a boy with a Justin Bieber hair cut. Her sparkly pink nails came flying at me and she pulled the picture away, glaring at me.

"Stop touching my stuff! Mom! Go away, Blaine. Mom! Blaine's touching my stuff!" Lucy ran out into the hallway and started to yell down the stairs. "Mom! Mother! Blaine's being a dick! Mom!"

Sometimes I wish that my mom and Tom only had dogs instead of a teenage girl.

"Lucy, don't swear! And Blaine, leave your sister's stuff alone!" my mom shouted back, the dogs starting to bark as the yelling continued. I sighed and rolled my eyes, taking a seat on Lucy's bed and falling back into her girly pillows. _Why is she so girly?_

Lucy walked back into her room, her blonde hair resting on her shoulders as she stared down at me.

"You're stupid," she said. I only laughed.

"I can't say hello to my little sister? I thought she loved me."

"She thinks you're stupid," she said once again.

"So, you've got a new boyfriend?"

She sighed and sat beside me, her blue eyes suddenly glazing over.

"Yes!" she squealed. "And he's perfect! His name is Josh. He's a freshman. We've been going out for a week now. I'm in love."

Lucy was always in love. I didn't know how I had such a promiscuous little sister. She was only thirteen and I prayed to God she wasn't having sex. But even if she was no one could stop her. She was an unstoppable force of female hormones and she won't rest until she finds a guy who's willing to say "I love you" even if they don't mean it.

"What happened to Charlie?"

She scoffed. "Do _not_ even bring him up. He's such a dick. Casey said she saw him making out with some skank from McKinley. Ugg. I want to kill them both. I hope they die."

I sighed and got up, realizing how comfortable her bed was. I slid down until my feet touched the floor.

"Where are you going?" she asked, nearly freaking out.

"Downstairs. Is that okay with you?" I asked back.

She looked down and pulled at a loose thread on her jeans. "I was sort of hoping you'd teach me to play a song. The talent show is next week and I want to audition."

"Of course I'll help!"

Sure she may hate me, but I'm probably Lucy's favorite person in the entire universe. I just sometimes wished I could live up to that more.

Happily she hopped over to her backpack and pulled out sheet music, explaining to me how I needed to teach her how to play it with proper piano hands. Just as happy I walked over to the piano and began to teach her.

A few hours later we were all sitting in the dining room, the sounds of dogs scratching at the glass doors as they watched hopelessly as we ate our dinner. Tom and my mom were talking about getting a cat for Lucy, saying how she needed to get her grades up if she wanted the one she'd seen at the shelter. Lucy promised she would, but we all knew that was a lie. Lucy was lazy.

"What about you, Blaine?" my mom asked as she shook some ranch on her salad. "Are you going to do anything special with this time off you're taking?" She obviously wasn't thrilled about this. Her hazel eyes narrowed at me, as if she was telling me that she knew exactly what had happened hours before.

"I'm going to Vegas," I muttered between my bite of spaghetti and a sip of wine.

"Whatever for?" my mother asked, nonchalantly.

I shrugged. "Just need a break. It's no big deal or anything."

"Are you going with your father?" asked Tom. I shook my head and he put his fork down.

"Who are you going with then?"

This was one thing that I sort of liked about my step-father. He cared. Sometimes too much, but he cared nonetheless. It was a lot more I could say for my actual father. Or mother for that matter.

"Just a friend. Well, I may be going alone if he says no…"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "He?"

That caught my mom's attention. "You've got a boyfriend?"

For a woman who had dreams of having a daughter-in-law, she sure got overly excited whenever a boy was brought up by me.

Lucy started to sing then, "Blaine's got a boyfriend. Ooh ooh. Blaine's got a boyfriend. Ooh la la."

I kicked her under the table. Not hard enough for my liking.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Oh, then are you going with Wes or David?" Tom buzzed.

Lucy smirked. "David, most definitely."

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to defend my friend's sexuality but decided not to get into it with her.

"Who with, then?" my mom asked.

"Just a friend. But like I said, I'll probably just end up going alone."

"Can I come?" Lucy asked.

"No," Tom and my mom said together loudly, glaring at her. She sunk in her seat and looked down at her food, looking like she had been told that she could have the kitten and then was told she couldn't.

I elbowed her. "When you turn twenty-one I'll take you, kay? We'll go see the strippers together." A large, impossible smile appeared on Lucy's face.

"Blaine!" my mom hissed.

"Really?" the teen asked.

"Really."

Tom was laughing and my mom was huffing. She and my dad had that in common. I wonder if Lucy and I will end up doing that at some infuriating moment in our lives. I sure as fuck hope we don't; it's really unattractive.

To save us all from the fire that was about to burst out of my mother's flesh Tom changed the subject. For the rest of the meal we all talked about weather and some sports' teams. Lucy and my mom gossiped about things on E, both trying to get me to join in and share my opinions. My mother insinuated that because I'm gay I had to be really into fashion and the Kardashians. I'm not, really. I'm a pretty horrible gay.

Eventually it was time for me to leave. Lucy asked if I'd be back in time to see her at the talent show if she made it. I told her I would because I knew she'd be taking home the gold. She smiled and hugged me, and then said something about taking protection with me. Those words shouldn't be coming out of a thirteen year old's mouth.

My mom kissed me on the cheek and Tom shook my hand. The dogs sniffed my crotch and I felt mortified. I left that house faster than possible and headed back to Columbus.

I arrived home just as the clocks turned nine. I dropped the objects from my pockets into the bowl on the coffee table and threw my jacket absentmindedly on the sofa. I used my toes to kick off my shoes and undid my tie, all the while walking to my computer.

I took a seat and unbuttoned the cuffs of my shirt as my email started to load. I was trying to make myself comfortable for the mean time before I stripped down to my boxers and passed out in my bed. Most of the email was spam, along with a few forwarded emails from some of my less computer savvy co-workers. Wes had multiple emails sent, all of which were scenes from a book he was working on. I'd agreed to read them and give him my thoughts on them, but honestly all I wanted to do was watch some TV and go to bed.

I was about to click on one of them when a familiar yet unfamiliar name appeared. I clicked on it, suddenly leaning into my monitor.

* * *

from: Kurt Hummel  
to: Blaine Anderson  
subject: Viva Las Vegas

I've thought about your offer for a few hours now. A sane person would have immediately said no or thought it over for a couple of days, but I am neither sane nor do I have the time to dwell on simple matters. $10,000 is a lot, and I'm still unsure if you're the actual crazy one or not, but for that amount I am willing to take my chances. But under my terms.

You will pay for all my expenses: plane ride to and from, hotel room, meals, etc.

Any of the sexual activities will between 10:00 PM and 2:00 AM. Never before or after. If this deal is breeched than you will send me back to home.

I would also like the cash up front.

When, where, and what time?

- K

* * *

I smiled to myself, not hesitating to hit the reply button. I was surprised to find my fingers trembling as the tips touched the keys. I honestly wanted this to not be a big deal, but it was. I was thrilled that he said yes, but a bit hesitant. I would comply with his terms, but I had a few of my own.

-:-

Four days later I was in Wes' car, getting a lift to the Barnes & Noble where Kurt and I had agreed to meet. He had said that he wanted to pick up some reading material for the plane ride.

"I still feel bad for making you go alone," Wes said to me as he pulled into the parking lot.

"Don't. I need some time alone." Yeah, so at this point no one knows me and Kurt are going to Vegas together. I told my mom that "my friend" had said no. She opposed of me going alone, as did David and now Wes. Even my dad didn't like the idea. But I was determined to go. More so I was determined to go with Kurt.

Wes pulled up to the doors and I climbed out, grabbing my bag and throwing it over my shoulder as I waved a goodbye and walked into the building. I took in the smell of coffee and books and sighed, wondering where in the world Kurt could be. Was he even here?

I found myself in front of a magazine rack, not really wanting anything or carrying about the not so juicy celebrity gossip. I spotted Lady Gaga on a cover of Rolling Stone and went for it, but somebody had beaten me to it.

"Sorry," a soft voice rang out. I recognized it, almost as if I had heard it every day of my life.

Kurt held the magazine to his chest. I smiled and he frowned. "Oh, it's you."

"And here I thought you'd be dying to see me! I am taking you to Vegas after all," I joked.

His eyes appraised me. "Mm, yes."

Biting my lip I asked, "Are you ready? Got everything you need?"

"Sure. Let me just…" He lifted up the magazine and waved it, rushing off to the check-out. I followed him, unable to keep up with his fast pace because of random people who got in my way.

By the time I was by his side he was handing a credit card to the cashier. Part of me wanted to pay the five bucks for the damn thing but I had a deep down feeling that he wouldn't like that very much. I noticed him glancing at me through the corner of his eye and sort of got paranoid.

"You haven't shaved," he noted as he walked away. I followed him once again and ran a hand over my chin, feeling the soft pin-pricks of stubble against my skin.

"Yeah, I thought I'd take this time to be a bit of a lazy bum and not shave."

He clucked his tongue and stepped out the doors.

"Are we walking? I took the bus so…" he asked, looking back at me for an answer.

I nodded and smiled, he only blinked and headed for the crosswalk. I fell in sync with his step, noticing how he was taller than me. By like an inch. We didn't speak and I took in that moment to look him over. I would have loved to say that he dressed opposite of his stripper look, but that would have been a lie. He wore knee high leather boots and dark purple pants. He topped that with red fringed leather biker jacket and a black shirt underneath that. He carried a rather large vanity case by a strap on his shoulder, holding it with two hands instead of one like me.

I think it was supposed to be fashionable, but like I said, I'm not that kind of gay.

I ran a hand over my chin again, smiling once more.

"Don't you like it?" I asked.

He sighed. "Like what?"

"The beard I'm growing."

He stopped walking and snapped his head to me.

"The money," he said, holding a palm out. I rolled my eyes and pulled my bag up, getting out the check I had put on the inside pocket. I handed it to him and he looked it over.

"There's only five thousand here."

"Correct," I said in a patronizing tone.

"We agreed on ten thousand."

"Yes, we did." I started to zip my bag. "You'll get the rest later."

He opened his mouth and his eyes were wide with rage, but instead of yelling his jaw shut and he continued to walk. It took us almost ten minutes to get to the airport, and once again Kurt was taking lead and pushing his way through the crowds.

He waited for me to get our tickets, and I could feel the questions burning in his brain as we went through security.

"Company air mileages," I said as we made it to our gate. "We often go out of town or to different states for business shit. I almost went to Australia but my dad, who is my boss might I add, thought that a son like his didn't deserve to leave the damn country."

We took our seat as we waited for a plane to board. I thought that Kurt would take the seat next to me but he skipped it and sat one chair away. He put his bag at his feet and turned his body to me.

"Your company…Corporate Offices, right?" he asked. I nodded my head and he continued. "I noticed that it was on your card and email…even the check. Should all of that be so involved with what we're doing?"

He was worried about getting caught, clearly. Worried about getting in trouble or ending up in a court room. "Well, my family owns the company. I can basically do whatever. If anyone found out about this my father would be trying to drown everything in money. We're fine, Kurt."

We sat there for a nearly twenty minutes, neither of us speaking to each other or making eye contact. Kurt settled by reading his magazine and I sent texts to Wes and David, who were still down in guilt city. Over the intercom it was announced that our plane was ready to board and we stood up, making our way to the plane.

The doors leading to the short path that led to the plane seemed almost as if it led to Hell rather than Vegas. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself, but there was something that had been bothering me.

"Kurt, wait," I said breathlessly, closing my eyes.

"What?" he asked. I heard him step closer to me and felt his bag land on my feet. I opened my eyes, surprised to see him so close. "Oh, you're not looking so good."

"I'll be fine. I just…"

I took another deep breath and stiffened my shoulders.

"Before we do this. Before anything happens. I must know…"

He leaned in, his eyes locked on mine. "Yes?"

"How old are you, Kurt?"

"Nineteen," he spat out. I felt my eyes go wide. "Is that a problem?"

"Uh, yeah. You're barely legal!"

He rolled his eyes and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "I am legal, Mr. Anderson. I can take care of myself. I make my own decisions. Now, I want to get this over and done with. Our plane is boarding."

I watched him as he walked over to the woman and handed her his ticket, giving a thanks and walking onto the plane. Clearly he was determined to go, even if he didn't want to be there.

The thought made me smile. And like I had been doing for the past hour, I followed Kurt onto the plane. In a few hours, both he and I would be doing things we probably never would have before.

Obviously we both needed to be put in a nut house for greedy nuts…no pun intended.

* * *

**Ending Note:** The whole Wes gives Blaine his words in an email was inspired by me and the very lovely Jenny (whom will probably be mentioned a lot). We do this more than we breathe. Honestly. Also my ego was the size of the sun whilst writing this. Never in my life has this happened, so I surely enjoyed it. Plus I've formed this new method of writing and it's working really well. Not sure how long this will last, but we can only hope for the best, right? Right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **(Instert lack of update excuse here.)

I'd like to just throw something out there. Some of you have noticed that my style of writing is wierd. Why? Becuase I'm a subconcious writer. I don't really think about what I'm typing. If I forced myself to actually think then nothing would come out. Very bad times. Add more detail? I'dunno. That bit's not up to me. It's what comes out. I picture words like movies... I already think they're visual enough in my head that I don't really bother to add more detail. Yeah, very shitty thing for me to do, but it's always been like this and I don't think it's going to change. /PSA.

Um. Enjoy. Next time we get to see Kurt and Blaine acting like boyfriends for a certain someone from Kurt's life. And a pair of infamous pink sunglasses come into the story.

* * *

The plane ride hadn't been as long as I thought it would have been, mostly because it was oddly peaceful and quiet—hardly any little kids that weren't too vigorous or loud. Kurt begged for the seat next to the window, which I happily obliged. I had a sort of fear of heights, and looking out of a plane window really didn't help me sustain the nausea. I sat beside him and listened to my iPod, mostly drifting in and out of sleep. The few times I did come to Kurt was wide awake, staring out the window and listening to his own iPod or flipping through the magazine he had bought.

I woke up once again, which was probably my fourth time waking up, and looked over at him. I couldn't turn my head properly since there was a weight on my left shoulder. I glanced down and spotted his auburn hair, his cheek was pressed against my shoulder and his breathing and turned to a therapeutic pace. He'd finally fallen asleep…on my shoulder, too. I smiled and pulled the baby blue blanket up, covering his chest. I looked out the window and noticed the blackness. We were probably only a few hours away from our destination.

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. The closer we got to our destination the more I could breathe. It was as if my life in Ohio was more than miles away…galaxies away. I could step off this plane and be anyone I wanted to be, no one holding me back—not even me. It was refreshing and even caused my palms to sweat, but the overall freedom was euphoric. I could feel my lips form into a smile, probably far too big and far too unwanted on a plane ride full of groggy people who were starting to feel claustrophobic.

"We're currently flying over Nevada. Estimated time of arrival is fifteen minutes," a voice over the intercom said. I took a deep breath and shrugged my shoulder. Kurt stirred and fluttered his eyes open, his hand rubbing against my elbow.

He smacked his lips together and licked them, his eyes hazy as he looked up at me. He was probably still half asleep but he murmured, "Are we there?"

I nodded my head and turned my eyes to the window. "You'll probably be able to see the lights soon. It's quite pretty."

He straightened in his seat, the blanket falling down into his lap. I chuckled at the redness of his cheek and the sweat in his hair from lying on my shoulder. He didn't glare or question me, only moved to look out the window better.

"This is amazing," he said in awe, his small hands pressing against the glass as he pressed his nose into it.

"When I was younger, I used to call it Lost Vegas. Which is plausible. It's such a big, bright city. So much to see. So much to do. So many ways to lose yourself," I said and then laughed. Kurt looked back at me and nodded, immediately turning back to the glorious view.

Soon after, the plane landed and the two of us headed off to our hotel. We took a taxi just outside the airport and once again Kurt found himself glued to the window, staring at everything and anything. Not all of Vegas was glamorous and shiny, but he didn't seem to care. He kept saying to himself how amazing everything was and that he couldn't believe he was actually here.

"You don't leave Ohio much, do you?" I asked him, completely and utterly amused by him.

"Not all of our daddy's own big companies with money to spare," he replied quietly. It was as if he didn't want to speak to me but he had things to say. Kurt didn't seem like the type to hold back what was on his mind.

I could understand that. At some point in life you just don't give a shit anymore. I reached mine when I hit college… when life for me wasn't like it used to be. Things change and they will change you, no matter how much you promise yourself that they won't. Time will attempt to fix those things, but sooner or later you will forget why you've changed in the first place. Being different will be the norm for you, and you'll be stuck like that until things are resolved.

I know why I'm cruel and mean at times, careless and hopeless—but I'm not ready to change.

I wondered why Kurt was the way he was. Shut off. Angry and hostile, yet he still had that little bit of him trying it's best to surface. I knew this person.

And I wanted to discover who he was before his walls were built.

-:-

We arrived at the Ballagio, Kurt immersed in the crowded streets of the Las Vegas strip, his eyes wide with the happy yet loud crowds and the sparkling lights that lit up the night sky. Inside the hotel, Kurt kept his eyes on everything, never blinking or daring to turn away from something exotic looking or expensive. I smiled the entire time to our hotel room, his amazement making me feel like he wasn't actually hating his time here.

Inside our room we glanced around, looking and admiring every corner and crevice. Kurt had an obsession with the low quality moisturizers and how they were shit for his skin, and then I forced him to leave the bathroom before he could ruin his good mood.

We were staying in a split hotel room. One room had my bed and a dresser, along with an attached bathroom. Through two large doors was his room, which was symmetrical to mine but much smaller and without a bathroom. I helped him put his things away and he stared at the room, occasionally touching things, as if to see if they were real or not.

"How do you like it?" I asked, taking a seat on the edge of his made bed. He fumbled with his fingers as he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, facing me.

He shrugged and made a face, his lips pressed together near the corner of his mouth. "I've never been in a hotel like this before."

"But you've been in one before," I said, smiling.

"Yeah… I was a cheerleader once and when we went to Nationals we stayed at the Hilton. I had to share a room with three other guys. It was sort of uncomfortable."

"Is it uncomfortable for you now?"

He ignored my question and let out a rather loud and shaky sigh. He closed his eyes and his chin fell to his chest, his hands on his hips as he took deep breaths.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, standing up. He looked up immediately, a soft grin on his face.

He nodded and said, "Its two to ten." I looked over my shoulder and spotted the clock on his night stand beside his bed. The red glowing numbers seemed impossible and I swallowed, turning back at him.

"I'll… see you in a bit." I headed for my room, shutting the doors behind me as I bit my lip and stared at a wall.

It was time. The deal we'd made. The reason we were here. It was happening…now.

I tore off my leather jacket and kicked my shoes off, not bothering to put away my own clothes or toiletries. Instead I just pushed things under the bed and grabbed a chair from a small table near the corner and pushed it towards the door that led to Kurt's room, facing it…facing him.

I sat in that chair and I waited. I waited and I waited and I waited. Time was going slow, making this moment last forever. My palms began to sweat and I could feel my heart beat against my chest. My left leg bounced up and down and at some point I began to eat my own fingernails.

When he stepped out of his room I couldn't be sure if he was fucking with me or not.

He wore a trucker hat, his brown bangs brushed out against his forehead. His hands were deep in the pockets of a brown vest, which was covering a long sleeved red flannel shirt. He wore jeans that seemed far too baggy for his style. I laughed.

"I didn't know the trucker luck was in this year."

He smirked. "You'd be surprised."

Kurt walked over to me, silencing my laughter. His knees bumped into mine and he took his vest off slowly, his eyes staring deeply into mine. I froze as the vest audibly hit the floor and his fingers touched the buttons of his shirt. I hadn't expected him to be so forward, but then I remembered the first time we met. Maybe if I accepted the lap dance or hand job we wouldn't be here.

I watched with tentative eyes as he slowly and smoothly unbuttoned his shirt, letting it join the vest on the floor. Of course my eyes feasted upon Kurt's chest. He wasn't a Situation with more abs than skin, and he was as pale as a porcelain doll, but it suited him. It was what I imagined it would be and I couldn't help myself from touching him and unlike the dark room back at the club, he let me. In fact, he encouraged me to touch him.

I let my hands wander over his bare chest, running my fingers over his nipples, causing him to gasp as he found his way to my mouth, his lips attacking mine with ferocity. The hat fell off as he dipped his head to kiss me deeper. I moved my hands from his chest to his head, kissing him harder as he climbed into my lap. He kept his hands on my shoulders, gripping them and squeezing every few seconds as our tongues battled against each other.

"Wait," he whispered, tearing his lips from mine and climbing off of my lap.

"What?" I asked, slightly panicked. He jumped up to the entertainment system behind us, turning on the stereo as he flicked through the few CDs there.

"I wouldn't even make an attempt, Kurt," I said to him, standing up and walking over to him. "I'm sure this collection is full of Lionel Richie and Hootie and the Blowfish."

"One can only hope that someone left behind some Britney or Cher or Celine. Or their iHome," he muttered as he narrowed his eyes at the five cases. I grabbed one that caught my attention.

"James Taylor. We lucked out." I opened up the case and put the disk in the stereo, flipping the case over and reading the back.

"I think I recall him. He seems like someone my dad liked. Or maybe it was Carol. Or maybe Finn. They all love that older stuff," Kurt said as leaned in to read the back with me.

I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Familia? I was starting to think you were a little orphan Annie or something."

He rolled his eyes and pointed at a track. "I think I've heard this song. Play it."

I skipped to "You've Got a Friend" and pressed play, immediately experiencing a massive case of music nostalgia as my eyes shut. A moment later Kurt said, "Yeah, I remember this song. One time my dad put it on repeat when he was teaching me how to change a tire."

"That's funny…that's how I first heard it," I murmured as my head started to sway back.

"Really?" I heard him ask.

I opened my eyes and found him, smiling with anticipation. "No, not really. But wouldn't that have been something?"

He shook his head but kept his smile. "You're an ass."

"Yes, I am. Now dance with me before I make a fool of myself by dancing with that body pillow on the bed."

He was hesitant but he walked over, his hand slipping in mine. I put an arm around his waist and he did the same, his cheeks glowing red as I began to make him sway and turn with him. He laughed and I serenaded to him, singing him the lyrics loudly and as seductively as I could manage.

"You've got a nice voice," he commented.

"Why thank you. I try."

"I couldn't say the same about your ego, though."

I gasped. "I take offense."

"You should."

I went to twirl him, even though the song didn't call for it, and he stepped onto the bottom of his jeans, nearly falling over.

"Maybe you should take them off," I said, raising an eyebrow suggestively. I was waiting for him to say something sarcastic or call me out for being a dick, but instead he wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed his body against mine. I felt his breath against my ear.

He licked my earlobe. "Maybe you should do it for me…" I rose to the challenge.

Grabbing Kurt's hand, I pull him to the bed. He followed me, never blinking or making sudden movements. He has a curious yet smug grin that only encouraged me to continue. His hands flew to my zipper of my jeans as the back of my thighs hit the edge of the bed. I shook my head and slapped his hands away.

"This is all about you, kiddo."

He narrowed his crystal blue eyes at me and I heard my pants come undone. His hands moved from the dropping pants to my shirt, where he swiftly grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me closer to him.

"Got a boyfriend, Mr. Anderson?" he asked as he ran a hand over my chest.

"If I did, then I wouldn't have needed you to accompany me, now would I?" He smirked and began to unbutton my shirt, his eyes on his hands as he did so.

"It's none of my business to know, now is it?" he said in a mocking tone.

I laughed a breathy laugh. "What about you?"

He only continued to smirk and let his hands palm against my chest, the tips of his fingers running against my nipples, causing every inch of me to stiffen.

It was sudden, then. My back was pressed against the headboard of the bed and he was working the pants off from my ankles. Our lips had found each other once again and Kurt giggled as I hummed to James Taylor.

This was easy.

I had thought being intimate with him would have made things even more awkward and apathetic, but we were having fun. Laughing and moving our hands and legs just as the other was doing the same. It was as if we'd been doing this for years.

He wrapped his tiny, delicate hand around my hard-on and began to move up and down, all the while his mouth moved against mine. My own hand had found its way into his pants, which were supposed to come off a few minutes back. Together we kissed, our bodies starting to sweat as we pleasured each other.

He was so… perfect. I loved the way he felt against me. This might sound cliché, but it was like he was a piece to my puzzle. He fitted. And I loved it.

He moaned and came, continuing to beat me off as I pulled my hand out his pants. He smiled and shut his eyes, pulling himself over me and sitting against my thighs. I grunted that I was about to come. He worked me faster.

I came, gushing over his hand that remained wrapped loosely around my dick. He sat with his knees on each side of me, his forehead pressed against mine as we both caught our breath. His eyes locked on mine and I pulled my hand out of his pants. Through our matching gasps we laughed.

"That was…great," I said, licking my lips. I could still taste him.

He nodded and turned his head to the left. He pulled his hand out of my boxers and got off of me and the bed.

"It's not even eleven," he said to himself. I glanced at the clock. It was just barely ten thirty.

Kurt put a hand on his neck. "I feel—can I go take a shower?"

My facial expression must've said yes (not that I wouldn't let him take a shower). He turned on a heel and headed to his room. I got on my knees and crawled to the edge of the bed, leaning over it so I could peek into the open double doors. I could see his pale back and his elbows move, the sounds of dresser drawers opening and closing, along with zippers. I spotted him leaving his room and I jumped back to the top of the bed, acting like I hadn't just been creeping on him. He carried a pile of things into the master bathroom, only giving me side glances.

I sat Indian style on the bed, my legs and other unmentionables sticky. It was an obvious reason as to why Kurt wanted to take a shower, but we still had a few more hours to go. But if I was being honest with myself, I was spent. I closed my eyes and almost didn't open them.

We had two more nights. That was enough time to get things done. Besides, I doubt that Kurt has ever really been out of state. Am I some kind of monster? I bet the poor kid is homesick and scared and just feeling like shit.

Perhaps my ego was too big. I was a selfish thinker, but I'd fix that. I heard the sound of the shower shut off and I walked into the bathroom. Kurt had a towel wrapped around his waist and he was drying his hair with another.

"Can I help you?" he asked. At least Kurt's attitude was back. Maybe I didn't scar him for life.

"I'm sorry," I said.

He scrunched his nose. "For what?"

Good question. "Just…everything. I kind of feel like major scum for asking you to do this. I didn't really think. I never think."

Kurt shrugged. "Well, I'd love to talk about this, but I need to get dressed." I nodded and turned. "Hey," he called out. I looked back at him. "I was sort of wondering…actually hoping that maybe…"

I finished for him, "We could continue this tomorrow night? Sounds good."

He smiled and I left the bathroom, only to return ten minutes later. Kurt was dressed in silky blue pajamas and attempting to keep his hair from having cow licks. I was busy putting bubbles into the huge tub. I would have taken a shower like a regular guy, but I had a soft spot for bubble baths.

Kurt didn't think it was weird, but then again he had nearly six types of moisturizers on the counter.

I stripped off the rather gross boxers and climbed into the warm water, immediately being attacked by white bubbles that smelt like strawberries. I sighed and leaned back, letting my body relish in the comfort.

Kurt laughed. "All you need is a rubber ducky."

"You did pack that rubber duck suit, right?" I fired back.

He snorted. "Puh-leaze. I'd wear garbage before I wore a leather suit, especially one that represented an animal that doesn't know the proper time to cross a street."

"You're harshing my mellow," I said, splashing some bubbly water onto him. He gasped and looked down at his designer top, his eyes wide as he ran a hand over the dark spot on his abdomen.

He snapped his eyes to me and glared, the tips of his ears turning a soft pink. "I could kill you right now. I worked overtime for this shirt. I got drooled on by an obese man who smelt like cottage cheese."

"You know what you need?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow and gave his "please-do-amuse-me-I'm-really-in-the-mood-can't-you-tell-by-the-sarcasm?" look and I climbed out of the tub. He averted his eyes form my nakedness. You would think that being around naked guys five days a week would make him a subconscious nudist but he's quite the little prude.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his hands reaching out to the ledge of the sink. I lunged for him then, my hands grabbing onto his arms as I pulled him back.

"No! Don't you dare!" he shouted, trying to get away from the dooming water that was five inches away. I wrapped my arms around his waist and pushed him into the tub, bubbles flying everywhere and water reaching every crevice of the bathroom. But Kurt wasn't going to go down with a fight.

He pushed his hands on top of my head and submerged me, taking that chance to make a break for it. He jumped out of the tub like a cat, his hair high and messy, dripping water down his face.

"This is dry clean only! Are you fucking kidding me?"

My eyes burnt from the bubbles but I pretended that I was perfectly okay. "Geez. Thank God you didn't start that moisturizing routine you're always on about."

"You wouldn't even be breathing right now if that was the case," he said through clenched teeth. He grabbed all the colorful bottles and stomped out of the bathroom. He slipped in a puddle of soapy water but caught himself before he could fall.

I probably shouldn't have laughed.

* * *

**Ending Note: **I'm not going to lie; Kurt's trucker stripper moment was written whilst I was watching Lord of the Rings. Sam and Frodo's obvious gay love for each other brought out my subconscious need to write Klaine. I must compute.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **vswimming12 mentioned how this Klaine is very alternative, which I wholly agree. These two have created their own house in my brain and I want badly to burn it down. But for the purpose of this story they get to annoy the hell out me with their banter, fluff and other mentionables.

I honestly thought this chapter was going to be much better than it is now, but something happened and it fell to shit. But I've still got a lot more to write so who knows.

A big thank you to everyone who's been so awesome. Readers, reviewers and everyone alike; thank you for taking the time out of your day to read whatever this is that I'm writing. I'm glad you all are enjoying it. And face it, I flirt with all of you.

* * *

By morning we were wide awake, already dressed and enjoying room service. We got the simple things; pancakes, sausages, bacons, eggs, toast. Kurt did order some things that seemed to be in French, but part of me had a feeling that he really had no idea what he was eating. He seemed to enjoy it, at least.

"This breakfast is sort of orgasmic," he said as he nibbled on some jelly toast.

I nodded. "It's definitely a treat for your stomach. Mine is used to eating frozen breakfast bowls or hot pockets or fruity pebbles. I rarely cook at home."

"I cook all the time! Mostly because you can't really get take out that isn't covered in grease."

"Ah, you're one of those health freaks," I stated.

He pursed his lips. "I'm simply one of those people who care about what goes in their bodies. Excuse me for not wanting to choke on a frozen chicken leg."

"That's why you cook it…"

The few minutes that followed were full of silence and the sounds of metal scrapping against glass. But it wasn't that awkward atmosphere that seemed to surround us. It was just quiet.

"So Mr. Anderson—" he started.

I stopped chewing. "Blaine."

He looked at me, his eyes questioning. "Blaine?"

"Kurt, you seem like a smart guy. But did you honestly forget my name?" I questioned him, glaring.

His eyes grew wide. "What? Of course not!"

"You're really bad at lying."

He smirked. "Or maybe I'm just fucking with you."

"Now I'm really glad I threw you in the bath tub."

"You're just lucky I didn't have my rape whistle on me," he sniffed.

I laughed. "You own a rape whistle?"

"Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just fucking with you again. It's quite fun—I see why you do it all time."

I shook my head and shoved and fork full of scramble eggs into my mouth, noticing that they were getting a bit cold. I would have to eat the rest of them quickly if I wanted semi-warm eggs.

"Now, where was I before you got all prissy." I ignored his comment, except for the eye roll. "Right. So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" He stopped eating and put a hand under his chin while his elbow rested on the table. He fluttered his eyelashes at me and smiled. I wanted to both punch him in the face and swoon.

I mused over a witty response. "My name is Blaine. I like long walks in the moonlight, except for when I turn into a werewolf. That's a bitch."_ Buh-dum-tiss._

"I'll be sure to not walk with you when there's a full moon, then. Thanks for the heads up," he replied as he began to eat.

"Do you have any mythical creature quirks? I bet you make a killer fairy."

"I hope you're not serious."

"Look at my face." He looks up, a bored expression on his adorable baby face. "Do I look serious to you?"

"I can't tell…I'm getting lost in your eyebrows. I think I'll name them. That one," he pointed to my right eyebrow, which was raised ever so slightly, "will be named Mario. And the other Luigi."

"My eyebrows are Italian plumbers that battle mutated turtles? Lovely."

"If it's any consolation, your cock is Princess Peach."

My laughing became uncontrollable then, and Kurt joined in once I had fallen out of my chair, hitting the floor with a big thud. He asked me if I was okay and I answered in laughs, slowly getting myself back up. Our laughter came to a halt soon after and we continued to eat.

"What about you?" I asked him out of the blue. He looked up at me, that questioning gaze returning. "Tell me something about you."

He stopped eating and took a deep breath, clearly trying to think about what he could say.

"Well, I've lived in Lima, Ohio all my life. I came out officially when I was sixteen. In eleventh grade some stuff happened and I went to a private school; Dalton Academy…"

I nearly spit my orange juice onto his face. "Dalton Academy? In Westerville? I went there!"

"Really?" he asked, just as surprised as me.

"Yeah, I went there for nearly four years."

"Small world," he said quietly.

I felt my lips go from a small smile to a tight line. "Very."

"Any particular reason that you went?" he asked.

"Bullies," I stated. "I was tormented all throughout my freshman year of high school. And middle school. And elementary."

He nodded. "Me too. I had no choice but to really leave my school. It was horrible."

"I didn't have a hard time leaving. I really didn't have any friends and home life wasn't all that great. Dalton was the best thing that ever happened to me, up until college, though." He opened up his mouth, ready to ask me questions. I stopped him before he got a chance. "How bad were your bullies?"

"Pretty bad. They mostly called me names or threw me in the dumpsters or slushied me…"

"Wait, slushied? Like a slurpee from 7-11? I don't see how this works. Explain please."

He sat up and scratched his neck, his nose scrunching up. "Well, they'd go to a gas station, buy a slushie and then bring it to school. And then when you weren't really expecting it, _bam!_ Fucking bitch slap by an ice berg. So many perfect outfits ruined." He shuttered.

"That's really shitty. But I guess it's better than like, getting jumped or put in a hospital."

"Were you put in a hospital?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Bullies suck."

"That they do. I lost all hope before Dalton came into my life. I even thought about suicide, but I couldn't do something like that to my Dad. Or Finn. Or Carole."

"I've tried to kill myself," I simply said, as if it were normal.

"Really?" He starred at me with his wide ocean eyes, as if I had succeeded and was a ghost.

I dropped my utensils and lifted up my arms, my wrists facing him. He reached over and pulled my left arm closer to him, examining the crooked scar there. I felt my eyes close as his soft finger followed the white strip.

"Did it hurt?" he asked with a whisper.

"I was already hurting too much inside to feel anything else. It was sort of a relief; I was minutes away from being safe." I felt his hand leave my wrist and I opened my eyes, picking up my fork and knife. "My step-dad found me. An ambulance came, they took me to a hospital, stitched me up and for the next five months I was on suicide watch. When everyone found out that I was being bullied at school they went searching for a private school."

"Goodbye pain, hello freedom," Kurt whispered, his eyes stuck on my wrists. His eyes snapped up at me and I could have sworn I saw a tear. "I'm finished eating. I think I'm going to go take a shower."

"But you took one last night," I stated.

"I didn't take a proper one. I forgot to wash my hair."

He bounced back and forth from his room to the bathroom, piles of clothes and bottles of products in his arm. I could only shake my head at him and steal some of his food off of his plate. I was spoiling myself with breakfast, happily gorging. I was going to get super fat.

I needed to go to a gym.

Shortly after finishing my breakfast I found myself too full to move, but I managed to crawl into my bed and flip on the television. At home I had cable, and this was satellite. All the channels were in the wrong places and I hardly knew how to work the remote, so the only thing I could really do was just hit the search button and go through every single channel.

Kurt ventured from the bathroom, cleaning up his mess and putting his things back in his room. A lot of back and forth walking in front of the TV, but I was mostly watching him anyway. When he was finished putting things away he sat on the bed with me and put on some socks.

"What are we doing to do today?" Kurt asked, bending over. I heard the sound of his boot zipper and grimaced. He wanted to go out. I wanted to stay in, only because I wasn't feeling very well. Probably jet lag, or just the whole awkward situation. Or the fact that ate more than I weighed. I'm going with the latter.

"I'm not sure. I was thinking we could just stay here…"

"What about a day spa?" he threw out. "I haven't been to one in a few months. Which, if you knew me, is like years."

"I'm not a day spa kind of guy."

He exhaled audibly and turned his attention to the TV, not blinking or even breathing. I wasn't sure if it was a silent protest or his way of keeping his cool. I stopped my thumb and nudged his knee with my big toe. He took a breath and turned his head back at me.

"You can go. I'm not stopping you," I said kindly.

It took him a few minutes before he agreed. He went into his room and trotted about, returning with a hand bag and headed for the door. I sat up, suddenly panicked.

"You'll be back, right?"

He grinned and nodded his head. I sighed of relief and leaned back.

"Besides," he began. "I wouldn't leave my Marc Jacobs collection. A lot of my pay checks went into my wardrobe...well, basically all of my pay checks." With a wave of his fingers he opened the door and disappeared.

I continued my regimen of channel surfing before I decided that there was absolutely nothing on that I wanted to watch. I turned off the TV and finally put my things away, only so I could make my way to my laptop. I took it to the table where Kurt and I had eaten breakfast (a worker came in and cleaned up our mess shortly after we finished) and turned on the thing. I waited patiently as it loaded and signed into Skype.

The speakers started to ring and I accepted David's call.

"How's Vegas? Didya get laid? Find a nice guy? Are you married? Lose all your cash at the casinos? Find a baby and named it Carlos?" I put a hand up and simply blinked once. He shut up and smiled. "What happened?"

"Vegas is good. I sort of got laid. I did find a nice guy. I am not married. My money has barely been touched. And no baby whatsoever. Thank you for asking."

He laughed and woman's voice was heard. "Who are you talking to, baby?"

David turned and looked at a Victoria Secret-esque woman in his bed. She was blonde and a bombshell. If I was straight, I'd probably have a boner.

"Just a friend," he said sweetly. I forgot how much of a gentlemen David was around women. It's like his wild, obnoxious, silly ways were turned off and he turned into some type of Stepford husband. It was a bit frightening.

He looked back at me and I raised an eyebrow all the while showing how impressed I was.

"Uh," he started, smiling with what I think was a blush. "I've gotta… you know…"

I nodded. "We'll talk later. Have fun." He grinned once more and stopped the call. I sighed and looked at my contact list. There was only one other person online and I refused to even try a conversation with him. I probably should have just deleted him, but I guess I was waiting for him to make some form of apology.

I closed out of Skype and checked my favorite websites, really upset that there wasn't anything worthy of occupying me time. I checked my mail last, nearly deleting everything that was in my inbox. I sighed and pulled away from the table, honest to God bored.

I stood in the middle of the room and pressed my hand against my stomach, expanding it as I thought about the things I could do. I probably should have just joined Kurt at the day spa, but I wasn't up for being pampered.

The thought of the gym wandered back into my mind and the next thing I knew I was putting on tennis shoes and heading down to the hotel fitness room. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do so I ran a few laps on the treadmill, jamming out to my iPod and eyeing a few of the men that caught my attention.

I sort of felt guilty for looking at other guys when I was here with Kurt, but it's not like we were in a relationship. For all I knew he was getting a massage by some guy with sun-kissed skin and beach blonde hair. I bet there's a happy ending involved…

But to my surprise Kurt wasn't getting a massage. Through huge glass windows I could see him in his blue and gray outfit, chatting to someone on his cellphone. He had a big smile on his face and when he spotted me he waved. I waved back and he disappeared around a corner. He must've been heading back to our room.

I finished up my half hour workout (which mostly consisted of a slow jog) and made my way back to the room. Kurt was waiting for me outside, his cellphone put away and the tips of his ears slightly red.

"I forgot my key-card," he stated.

"Fortunately for you, I've got mine." I let us inside and he put his bag on my bed.

"Can we go out? I'd really, really like to go souvenir shopping for my family and friends. I promised them I'd bring gifts."

I grabbed some clean clothes out of drawer, my mind racing over his words.

"You told people you were coming here?"

He looked at me like I was crazy. Which I won't deny. "Yeah… I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but I'd be really, really stupid if I went to Las Vegas with a total stranger without telling anyone."

"Valid point."

"Didn't you tell anyone about this?" he questioned back.

"I told people I was coming here, but not with you."

"Oh."

"But sure, I'm up for getting out. I'm just going to take a shower." _Let me just get away from you before I put my entire foot in my mouth._

My time spent in the bathroom wasn't even close to how long Kurt's time was, but when I was about to come out I spotted myself in the mirror. My scruff was getting thicker and with my wet curls I kind of looked like I was a depressed hipster who broke up with his hobo girlfriend. Maybe I was. But either way, the razor came out and I left the bathroom fresh-faced.

Kurt looked at me and smiled. "I approve."

"I don't need your approval," I scoffed. He giggled and pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Are you?" He nodded. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Got your keycard?" His eyes grew wide and he flew into his room.

"Got it. Let's go."

-:-

I had a feeling that Kurt was a shop-till-you-drop kind of person, but I had never really seen it happen with a guy. I was used to my mom's OCD shopping ways and Lucy's hunt for the perfect wardrobe for a new school year. I was even used to Wes' need to attend sales on Black Fridays, but nothing could or ever would compare to Kurt's shopping ways.

We went into every store on the strip, even ones that held things far off from both of our interests. He managed to by at least something from each one, too.

I managed to buy some things, as well. Gifts for family and friends like him. I did find a kick-ass pair of pink sunglasses. Kurt only shook his head at me and bought a guitar-pick that changed color with moods.

"Puck will love this," Kurt stated when I asked him if he played or not.

"Who the hell is this Puck guy?" I asked, thinking about the first time I heard his name. Of course, Kurt was threatening that he was going to kill him.

"He's sort of my best friend. We bonded over the summer and he got me my job."

I dropped the subject and noticed that it was lunchtime.

He bit his lip. "Let's just go to a few more places and then we can go eat."

A few more places turned out to be twelve more places, most of which were stores that we'd already been in. He insisted that he saw something that would better suffice for a gift. Just as he finished paying for some of his things, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket momentarily and then put it back.

I paid for a t-shirt for Wes, which had the Batman symbol on it.

"Hey, Mr. Ander-I mean Blaine-would it be alright if we skipped lunch?"

I grabbed the bag from the cashier. "Well, sure...but why?"

He grinned and linked his arm with mine. This was the first contact he'd had with me that wasn't sexual or to get a better look at serious damage.

"My best friend goes to school here and when she found out that I was coming here for a few days, well, you get the picture."

I nodded and put my sunglasses back on once we stepped into the bright sun.

He grinned and pulled out his cellphone, sending a text to his friend.

"Oh, Kurt." He looked up at me, squinting. "You don't have to ask me for permission to do stuff. You can do whatever you want; I'm fine with it."

He snorted. It was cute. "Trust me, Blaine. I'm my own boss. I'm just making sure you understand in the nicest way possible..."

I rolled my eyes and squeezed his arm against my chest. "Geez, thanks."

We caught a taxi and Kurt gave the driver directions from his cellphone. He had a huge smile on his face and I sort of worried that his face would get stuck like that, but it was contagious and I had a hard enough time trying to hide my own big ass grin.

His friend happened to live just off the freeway, only twenty minutes away from the Vegas strip. The taxi pulled into an apartment complex full of beige buildings and a buttload of cars. The driver stopped in front of one of the apartments and I paid him our fare.

I grabbed all the shopping bags and Kurt jogged up two sets of stairs before stopping at a brown door. He knocked on it fiercely and on the other side I could hear a girl's voice shout, "Hold the fuck up. I'm coming, I'm coming."

Kurt squealed when the door open and he flew himself at the glamorous woman on the other side.

"I missed you, white boy!" she said as she hugged Kurt back.

"I missed you more! Life isn't the same without you."

I felt her gaze fly to me. "Who in the world is this?"

Kurt looked at her like he had no idea what she was talking about, and then he remembered me.

"Oh, Mercedes… this is my boyfriend… Blaine. Blaine, this is Mercedes." _Boyfriend?_ I questioned him mentally. He gave me a look that said for me to go with it. He didn't have to ask me twice.

"Just because we live in different states doesn't mean you can't keep my updated," Mercedes scolded, shaking a finger at Kurt. He looked apologetic but his happiness shined through. A man walked up from behind her and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Hello, Kurt," he said, his voice deep like a purr. I won't lie; my eyes enjoyed their snack.

"Anthony! It's so nice to see you again. You've been treating my girl good, right?"

Mercedes and Anthony, her boyfriend, laughed and just shook their heads at Kurt. The man nodded his head at me and I nodded mine back. _Well, hello._

"Babe, this is Blaine. Kurt's boy-toy," she said proudly. He only grinned and then turned around and headed to a loveseat.

"I see you got a new weave," Kurt said approvingly.

Mercedes smirked and ran a hand over her dark brown and copper curls. "You know it. Come on in!"

Kurt took a step into the apartment, glancing at everything that was in his view. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "You're a sassy gay best friend?"

He leaned back and turned his head to me. "Possibly, but none of this," he gestured to Mercedes and her yummy beau, "would have never happened. And besides—if anyone is the sassy one it's Mercedes." He said the last bit loudly, causing her to glare at him as she took a seat on the couch. I shut the door behind me and turned back to the living room, where Kurt had taken a seat on the recliner.

"One spot left, pretty boy," Mercedes said, pointing at the armrest of the brown chair. Kurt gave me a sorry look, but it was also one that said "it's okay". I set the bags by the door and walked over and took a seat on the not butt friendly armrest. I looked down at Kurt and he smiled, which I happily returned with my own.

"So, Blaine. Kurt. How long have you two been together? I'm still shocked that I haven't heard anything about this before," Mercedes said, raising her eyebrow at both me and Kurt. I looked at him, waiting. No way was I going to spurt out lies that he probably wouldn't want me to say. His eyes met mine and he blushed, then he looked at Mercedes and grabbed my hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"Not very long. Maybe about a month?"

She looked at me and waited for the conformation. I nodded and squeezed Kurt's hand back. I looked adoringly at him, which was very, very easy to do.

I threw in my own story then."It was such a sweet moment. We were on the bus and it was so full that we somehow ended up sitting next to each other. We were mostly flirting with our eyes, I mean—look at his! Gorgeous things he's got. So easy to get lost in them." His cheeks flamed once again and he grinned. "I asked him for his number and the next day we were on a date."

Mercedes awed. "I'm so happy for you two. I know how lonely Kurt's been. He's really needed a guy in his life. But if you hurt him, your ass is mine."

I put both my hands up, evidently dropping Kurt's. "I would never. And if I did then I must be going insane. So by all means please put me out of misery."

Anthony smiled and opened his mouth, his eyes moving to Kurt's.

"How's Finn? I heard he and Quinn got back together."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably beside me, clearly dreading this question. I put a supportive hand on his knee and cracked a smile.

"Finn and Quinn? That sounds very silly." I have no idea why I sounded like a four year old.

"Not as silly as their relationship," Kurt butted in.

"Trouble in paradise?" Mercedes threw out.

He nodded big and slow. "It's like high school all over."

Mercedes gasped and lunged at Kurt, her hands reaching for his knees. I felt her warm hand cover mine and I recoiled.

I forgot my hand was on him.

"Don't tell me," she began, panicked. "Baby gate?"

Kurt nodded once more. "She announced it last Thanksgiving."

Mercedes looked both amused and horror-struck. Anthony just looked bored, but he was supportive enough when Mercedes turned to discuss things with him. I looked at Kurt, waiting for him to answer my unspoken questions.

He crossed his legs and angled himself on the chair so he could face me better.

"Finn's my step-brother. He and Quinn used to date and she got pregnant. She told Finn that it was his but really it was Puck's." Puck. There was his name again. Who was he to Kurt? I felt worried, especially if he was associating himself to the guy who knocked up his step-brother's girlfriend. "Drama ensued, of course. They broke up. Finn and Puck were no longer best friends. Life went on."

I felt my eyebrows scrunch. "Well, people forgive each other. Why does it seem like such a big deal that they're together again? If they're happy—"

Mercedes jumped in. "Quinn had that boy wrapped around her bitchy finger."

"She's the Queen Bee. She treated Finn like shit all throughout their time together. It's a relationship I don't approve of," Kurt finished. "But enough talk about them. Mercedes, Anthony, how's life in Sin City?"

"Oh, a lot of sin," Mercedes said, winking at Kurt. The two giggled and jumped into their comfort zones with each other.

At some point they both moved into the kitchen and I moved from the armrest to the chair. I listened to them squeal all the while watching a pay-per-view UFC game with Anthony. He and I didn't talk, mostly because we had no idea what to say to each other.

"Hey, Blaine?" I heard Kurt call from the kitchen. I got up and turned the corner, spotting the two sitting on the counter eating cookies.

"Yeah?" I asked.

He hopped down, barely making any noise as his feet hit the linoleum. "Are you hungry or anything? I forgot that we skipped lunch and I rarely think of stomachs."

I was hungry, but I didn't feel like eating. I shook my head and shrugged and he looked rather upset.

"Are you sure?" he pushed. "I know you ate a big breakfast but it's almost four now."

I repeated the shrugging moment again and put my hands in my pockets. He still looked upset about the whole thing, which made me feel guilty for objecting food.

"I was thinking that we could actually go out to dinner," I said to him suddenly. "The hotel has a restaurant and I'm pretty sure that we have to eat their before we go back home."

He agreed and Mercedes smirked at us.

"You two should get going," she said.

"We really should," I seconded.

Mercedes led us to the door and Kurt gave her a big embrace. "I've really missed you," he said in a sad voice.

"Me too. You really need to call me more."

"I will," he promised.

He let go of her and started picking up some bags. Mercedes smiled at me and reached for a hug. I gladly put my arms around her.

"Thanks," she whispered in my ear.

"For what?"

She sighed. "No one ever sees Kurt smile anymore."

We both pulled away and I helped with the bags, giving some final farewells to her. Anthony offered to give us a ride back to the hotel, which we both objected to but Mercedes forced us to accept the offer. Kurt sat in the backseat of the car with nearly two hundred dollars of gifts. Anthony and I discussed little things, like the weather and sports. It was an awkward car ride back, but it was worth going to visit Mercedes.

I thought over how happy Kurt was there. He and Mercedes were obviously the best of friends, even though for some reason the two hadn't been very close for awhile. It was nice to see him gossiping and talking old times with her. He was in his element with her, and I'd kill to see that again.

Back in the hotel we carried all the bags into Kurt's room. He pulled everything out and folded things, glaring at the objects. I sat on his bed and helped him with sorting the things he bought (he sometimes forgot if he bought things for himself or someone else).

We finished up that and he sat on the edge of the bed and folded the shirt I bought for Wes.

"It was really nice to see her again," Kurt said. "Thank you for going with me."

I nodded. "Of course! She's really cool."

He smiled. "I know. She's a diva and a loud mouth, but she's got a heart far too big for this world."

A moment of silence passed and he looked up at me. "She likes you, you know."

"I like her, too."

We stared at each other, taking in each other's expression and giving silent thanks. But something was off with Kurt.

"Are you okay?" I asked him. "Are you upset that we left?"

"Why did you ask me here?" he suddenly questioned.

There was another moment of silence on my part, but it was entirely unwanted.

"I…well, why do you think?"

He shrugged. "Seems kind of odd to bring a random guy to Las Vegas and nearly spoil him. I know what you want, but why are you doing it this way?"

"Mercedes said you've been lonely," I stated. "You're not the only one."

He got off the bed and paced the room once. "So you asked me because you were lonely? I thought it was because you were horny."

"Well, of course I'm horny. But if I wasn't lonely then I probably wouldn't be horny."

"I just don't get it. Why me? Why here?"

"I really don't know, Kurt." I got off the bed and headed for my room. "I'm going to reserve us a spot at the restaurant. So you should probably get ready or something."

"I'm not really hungry," Kurt replied and shut the doors behind me.

Well, fuck.

* * *

**Ending Notes:** If only Blaine had no feet. Hopefully he can fix things in the next update. Drama, tears, romance, and a major confession on Kurt's part.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Can I start off by saying _holy shit, it's been forever since I updated?_ Well, it's been forever and I'm sorry. Excuses, excuses and more excuses. Here's a recap of everything that's happened: Blaine sort of hates his life, his friends want him to get laid, he takes Kurt (a fashionable stripper) to Vegas, if only to get laid. Drama, drama, sexy-times. Oh, and Blaine is probably in love with Kurt. I'd flip a coin, but you all know that heads is most likely to be the winner, right? I learned that when I was eight. Thank you, PBS Kids. (The more you know.)

Let's all just take a minute, hit the previous chapter button and find out what happened last. (Best. Author. _Ever.)_

* * *

I turned back around and threw open the doors. Kurt flinched but kept his back to me, his shoulders hunched up and his hands covering his face.

"I'm sorry," I began. "I'm really, really stupid and I say things without thinking. I try to think...but sometimes I just blank and let myself vomit up things that I don't mean to say."

He ignored me, but I could tell he was listening.

"The funny part is that I never used to be like this." I moved to the foot of his bed and sat, amazed at myself for being anything but amazing. "I used to be cool-headed and could talk a terrorist into singing the national anthem at a baseball game. Well, not exactly that…but I was good at talking. Really good."  
Kurt looked down, his eyes slightly red and instantly I knew he had been crying. I wanted to jump out the window.

I took a deep breath. "I know I can't make up for the things I do, so I'm sorry. That's really all I can say."

He shrugged. Neither of us said anything and I honestly wished my apology had been more earth-moving. When did I get so bad with words? When did everything fall to shit? What the hell was I doing?

I sighed and ran a hand through my curls, trying to figure out what my next move was. All of today's events played out in my head and I felt myself straighten up.

"Why'd you ask me all those things earlier?" I asked.

He shrugged again and walked over to the bed, sitting beside me. "Mercedes and I were just talking. That's all."

"About what?"

"Me. You. Us. Whatever this is."

"What is this?" I echoed.

"Exactly."

I cleared my throat and stood up. "I guess I'll continue on making that reservation, if you're still up for it?"

He nodded and said, "Let me get ready."

"Ohp, better schedule are date for three hours from now," I joked, trying to lighten the tension.

He glared. "It doesn't take me three hours to get ready. Only two. Sometimes one, depending on how rushed I am." He stopped himself mid-diva and looked at me with wide eyes. "Date?"

I felt my jaw drop. "Did I say date? Very well then."

With a wink I left the room and headed to the phone on the night stand, sort of wondering if I should slap myself or not. I missed the days when I knew how to think before speaking. Those were good, drama free days.

-:-

The hotel restaurant was nice and quiet, even though each table was full. I was barely able to get a table near the front. Kurt didn't take long to get ready, mostly because he was excited (at least, that's what I'm assuming). He did get stuck when he was trying to find a shirt and asked me for advice, but quickly took that back when he realize I was wearing a dress shirt.

He managed to find something to wear – a midnight blue cashier sweater with a peachy-pink bow tie and black skinny-jeans with black dress shoes – and we took the elevator down to the restaurant. Without thought I put my hand in Kurt's. I think it was mostly to point out what was mine to the questioning eyes, or maybe a sort of rebellion way of saying "Anniversary dinner with the wife? Congrats on being straight, but I'm going to go fuck my _boyfriend_".

The waitress lead us to the table, handing us our menus and returning with two glasses of wine. Kurt raised an eyebrow at me and I whispered to him that no one would know he was underage. He happily drank it, his nose scrunching at the taste but continued to drink it.

"I'm not going to let you get drunk, so slow your roll," I said to him as I read over the food options.

"I've been drunk before," he stated.

"Oh really?" I asked.

He nodded and laughed, putting his glass down. "Back when I went to McKinley we had this new student…well, she was like thirty something. But anyway, somehow she got me to drink…oh, shoot, I can't even remember what it was. I just know that I almost got suspended when I came to school drunk and puked on the school counselor's shoes."

I laughed and the waitress returned with a big smile. "Ready to order?"

I looked over at Kurt, letting him know that I'd go after him. He grinned back at her and mused over the menu quickly. "What the hell! I'll have the Stuffed Pasta Shells with a salad on the side."

"Lovely choice. And you, sir?" she asked me.

"I'll have what he's having," I replied.

She nodded. "I'll have that ready for you in a moment. Is there anything I can get you in the mean time?"

"I think we're fine, thanks," I said and gave her our menus. She took them and left, leaving me and Kurt alone to discuss safe topics. But luckily for me, the only way to have any type of safe and non-awkward conversation with Kurt was to not have one at all. Even when I looked at him I felt like I was saying something stupid. It only got worse when the waitress returned with her food.

I had never been much of a messy eater, but for some damn reason - that reason being Kurt, of course - I was shaking and my throat was dry, so every time I tried to swallow a bite of my food I choked, and then when Kurt would try to do something comforting I'd drop bits of pasta on my white shirt and I'm sure as hell my face matched the tomato sauce. I quickly excused myself and nearly teleported into the men's restroom.

I cleaned myself up as good as I could, knowing that as soon as we got back to the hotel I'd have to either quickly take the shirt to a dry-cleaners. Actually, I'd probably just throw it away. I wouldn't want a reminder of how awful this_ thing_ with Kurt was going. And as I am the _most luckiest man on Earth_, when I returned to our table it occupied a new guest.

Kurt looked up at me as I walked up behind the guy who he was talking. He had a huge smile on his face but it grew smaller as he looked at me.

"Blaine, uh, this is," he started, sputtering and looking flustered. I glared down at the blonde man momentarily.

"I already know who it is," I growled through my teeth, trying to keep calm in my face.

Sam Evens turned around and faced me, a bright, giddy grin on his face.

"Blaine!" he spoke, not breaking his happy tone. He stood up and shook my hand. "It's been so long. I've tried contacting you; I sent letters... emails. I tried calling."

"I moved." Lie.

He frowned. "Oh. And you didn't try to get a hold of me or anything?"

"What are you doing?" I whispered harshly at him. I saw Kurt's eyebrows crease in the corner of my eye. I turned to him, smiled, and said, "Can you excuse us for a minute?" He nodded but didn't look any less worried. I grabbed by his elbow and pulled him as far away from Kurt as possible without leaving the state.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked him.

"And why would that be any of your business, Blaine? It's not like we're friends or family or anything."

He had me there. "Then what are you doing with my date?"

"Date?" he echoed, looking slightly shocked, mostly sarcastic, though. "I didn't know you liked guys again."

"That is so irrelevant and you know it," I hissed. "I had a bi-moment in my life, get over it."

He laughed. "I'm over it, believe me."

"Answer my question."

"Honestly I didn't know he was your date until he started talking about you."

My eyes widened. "He was talking about me?"

Sam smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, it was cute. He seems like a nice kid."

"He is," I replied.

"Did you hear me? A _kid_."

"I'm fully aware of the situation I'm in. And for the record, he's nineteen, not twelve."

"That still makes him a kid. What are you doing, Blaine? Is you life really this pathetic that you've sunken to pedophile status? Who are you trying to impress?"

I scoffed. "Fuck off, Sam. What's going on in my life is no business to you."

"I just don't want this kid to get the wrong impression from you. He wouldn't be the first, after all."

"This is getting old, Sam. I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but what happens is none of your business." I jabbed my finger in my chest, trying to get the point across. Mentally I pictured me popping him like a bubble, which was a lot more humorous then it should have been. I had to try and keep the smile off my face.

"You're right. I'm not going to even bother with you two, I just don't think it's fair to him, is all." He licked his lips and his eyes grew dark. "Maybe someone should warn him."

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but all I know is that I want you out of my life and especially out of Kurt's. What's done is done. Time to move the fuck on."

He glared. "You broke my heart, not the other way around. And trust me, I've moved on. But I don't think that little kid has it in him to move on from something like that. He's like a fragile, porcelain bird. The longer you keep him caged up the more he'll forget to fly."

I chuckled. "Lovely metaphor. Now fuck off."

With a pursed mouth he shoved his hands in his pockets, started at me with remorse and then made his way to the front doors. Before he could leave my sight he turned around. "By the way, the only reason why I stopped to talk to your little bird was because he was crying. If you didn't have your ass so far up your head you'd notice that something's wrong with him." With that he turned and left the restaurant, leaving me feeling like I'd been punched in the stomach.

When I returend to the table Kurt looked up and gleamed. "What was that about?"

I ignored him and grabbed my napkin, placing it on my lap before I began another shaky attempt to eat. I stopped mid-stab and looked at him. With worried eyes he watched me as I tried to find a place to start.

"What did he say to you?" I asked, my voice shockingly low.

Kurt squinted as he tried to decipher what I said, and in the end he just shrugged. I wasn't sure if it was a sign that he had no idea what I said or if he really had nothing to say about Sam.

"So, who was that guy?" Kurt asked me as he poked at his salad.

"Trouty mouth," I muttered. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Just some guy I used to..." I couldn't finish. I wouldn't finish, not now... not ever. "I'm sort of not hungry any more."

Kurt nodded. "Me too. After our little dispute I sort of felt a bit obligated to come to dinner with you. No offense or anything."

I smiled. "None taken. I sort of feel the same way."

"Hotel, then?" he asked. I nodded and payed for our partial-dinner, both of us quietly heading out of the restaurant and to the elevator, where so fortunately Sam was, not knowing that we were slowly coming up behind us. I looked at Kurt and he stared at the back of the blonde, clearly a lot going on in his head. I felt my thumb come up to my mouth and I bit on the nail nervously.

Don't turn around. Don't turn around. Don't turn around.

The doors opened and Sam stepped in them, his eyes casted down on his cellphone as he proceeded to stay occupied by his Blackberry. Kurt made an attempt to step into the elevator but stopped when he saw my sickened expression. We both watched as Sam finally looked up, with a mild grin, just as the doors began to close. It looked like he was about to say something but thankfully the doors shut and I let go of a breath that I hadn't even known I was holding.

We waited for another chance to get in the elevator and once again was greeted by the never-ending awkward silence that likes to wrap me and Kurt into it's arms.

In the hotel both of us stood around, not sure what to make of our time. We both knew how the night was supposed to end, rules and all, but neither of us wanted to stress the fact. I'd somehow managed to follow him into his room, watching him as he cleaned up and prepared for the night.

Sam's face penetrated my mind, and the meaningless things he said. Though, one thing he said did keep my mind from completely forgetting about the restaurant. I patted the tips of my fingers against my pants and looked at Kurt.

"Why did he stop and talk to you, Kurt?" I asked hesitantly, not sure if I wanted to know the reason.

"I'm not really sure," he lied. I tried not to scoff or roll my eyes.

"Well, he told me that you were crying..." I murmured. Kurt's back went straight as he continued to organize his dresser.

"I was," he stated.

"Why?"

He shrugged and closed the dresser drawer, walking over and sitting next to me on his bed. He pulled his legs up and crossed them, his head falling into his hand.

"I'm sort of depressed, Blaine."

I felt my eyes widen. "Why?"

He let out a breath. "Life kind of sucks."

I laughed without humor. "That it does."

"It's my birthday tomorrow," he revealed. I looked even more shocked at this point.

"Really? Wow! Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I hate birthdays."

I was about to tell him how crazy he was but suddenly his eyes started to mist up and I felt a lump in my throat.

"Is that why you were crying when Sam..."

Kurt snorted. "Sam? He told me his name was Joshua."

"He has trust issues," I simply stated. Kurt turned and looked at me, his brow furrowed.

"Are you two friends or something?"

"We're nothing," I replied. "Why, did he say something about me?"

Kurt shook his head. "He walked past me, saw that I was anything but chipper and asked if I was all right. I told him I was but then he asked me if he could ask me something, so at this point I was rather confused and I guess he said yes and he sat down. I think he told me a joke but I was sort of... things were fuzzy and he sort of made me feel weird so I just pretended to give a damn and never in my life have I been so excited to see a pimp."

"Are you calling me a pimp?" I asked quickly after he finished his sputtering.

"I am a whore, aren't I?"

At this his tears spilled over and bit back a sob. It was one of the most saddest things I had ever seen and I had to try my hardest not to start crying.

"Kurt! Don't cry!" I said to him, pulling him into my arms and hugging him gently. "You're not a whore."

"What's this then?" he asked, his voice muffled by my chest and his sobs. "Man asks willing person to have sex for cash, willing person agrees. The only normal ending this would have is if you chocked me out during a major coke-party or something. This has Charlie Sheen written all over it."

I laughed at his hysterics and hugged him tighter.

"If you want to seem like less of a whore, or whatever you want to call yourself, then you can not take the cash... if you want..." I threw out. He pulled himself out of my grasp and glared at me.

"Fuck you. I need that money."

"Are you PMS'ing or something?" I questioned him, staring at him intently.

"I'm not female, Mr. Anderson. No offense, but screw you. Today has been really emotional and I'd just like to go to sleep."

"I don't know, aren't you scared I roofied you and will do in your sleep and then end up killing you?" I challenged.

"If I die in my sleep I will haunt you for the rest of you life. You'll be single and lonely for the rest of you life; the only thing worth living for will be your porcelain "Precious Moments" figurines that I will eventually ruin for you."

I put my hands up, telling him that I surrender. "Geez, why don't you sleep in tomorrow?"

"I plan on it," he harrumphed, pointing towards the door.

I rolled my eyes and exited the room, shouting a "good-night, slut" towards him. I heard another "fuck you" from him and I laughed. As soon as I was sure we wouldn't be seeing each other again until tomorrow, I pulled out my cellphone and began planning.

Kurt must've had some shitty birthdays in the past. I'd make sure that this wouldn't be one of them.

* * *

**Ending Note:** I suffer from Writers' Block. It get's so bad that I get depressed and sulk for days (in this case weeks/months), which leads to nothing being written at all. I'll try my best to keep it at bay. Also note that the most ironic thing about this chapter is that I hate the aspect of Sam being gay. The things fanfiction does to me. I mostly blame Jenny, who is secretly brain-washing me when I sleep at night. **I just know it**. Plus she admitted to it, saying, "What if I write Kum? Then you have to read it." She speaks the truth.

The next update will be sooner and better than this one. I promise. Thank you to all who have been sticking through this. You're my heroes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Holy shit! A quick update? Why yes, your eyes do not deceive you. And this chapter is going to be fun, after all, it's Kurt's birthday and whether he likes it or not, Blaine's a bit of a romantic/show-off/lovebug.

This chapter has been written in Kurt's point-of-view, mostly because I need a break from Blaine and his insane brain and because Kurt's thought-process has been how I've been thinking for the past while.

I'd really like to thank all of you who read this and are sticking with it and praise me. It really makes my day and indulges me to write more. I appreciate all the kind words and support and couldn't wish for anything more.

Please enjoy.

* * *

**Kurt**

I woke up in the soft, large bed. Had I been any more tired I would have thought that I was back home in Ohio, smelling a sweet breakfast that Carole would have made. My father would be laughing and slowly making his way up the stairs to wake me up, seeing as how alarm clocks when unnoticed when I was deep asleep. I would have smiled upon seeing him, skipping my morning ritual to join him and my step-mother in the kitchen for a delightful breakfast. We'd make plans for the days, or at least discuss the one that we've made without each other.

But I wasn't in Ohio.

I opened my eyes and noticed that the window curtains were fully open, the blazing sun surrounding me in warmth. I wasn't positive as to who opened them, but most likely Blaine.

My mind and heart was doing overtime at the thought of Blaine. Never in my life had I met such an unusual, awkward person before. Sure there had been Finn, my large, clueless and clumsy step-brother. Even Puck was odd, what with his need to hump and be as cool as he thought people wanted him to be. Blaine was without a doubt the strangest person to come into my life, and that's saying a lot.

Though, he was sweet and clearly he did things on a whim, never using that strange brain of his. Some of the things he did made me angry, but there was something wrong about being pissed off at him. He was obviously trying to make this situation as comfortable as it was willing to go, but at the end of the day we were just two people trying to get what we wanted.

I sat up in the hotel bed, only realizing now that it was my birthday. I was twenty now, and I felt anything but it. In fact, I felt more like a fifteen year old than anything. Here I was, compulsively going to Las Vegas for sex and money. It was like some bad movie that was better off as a porno rather than a block-buster. I felt disgusted with my self, but in the back of my head I regretted that. Mostly because of Blaine, the man who'd promised me things, who'd cared for me even when I wanted him to leave me alone. How was it possible that two strangers could become this concerned for each other?

There was a knock on my doors and I smiled to myself.

"Stop that," I said quietly to myself as I got off the bed and calmly opened the doors. To my surprise it wasn't Blaine on the other side, it was Mercedes.

"Happy birthday!" she greeted, throwing her arms at the side as she waited for me to jump into them and hug her, which I did.

"What in the world are you doing here?" I asked, the smile on my face making it hard to speak.

"Your boy sent me here," she stated, pulling away and fixing her hair that I accidentally ruffled up.

I looked into Blaine's room, finding myself anything but surprised that he wasn't there, or anywhere in the hotel room for that matter.

"Where's Blaine?" I asked her, a smile still on my face.

"Doing something romantic, probably. That boy is crazy about you."

I rolled my eyes._ Please,_ I said to her mentally. _What me and Blaine have going is anything but romantic._

"So, confess. What's going on? What are we supposed to do? I need to know," I spat off to her, a bit breathless from the excitement.

She smirked at me. "First, you need to go get your ass in the shower and get ready. Wear something nice."

"Nice like what? Prom nice? Wedding nice?"

Her smirk grew into a full on grin. "Sexy nice. If Blaine's doing something for you, you sure as hell better make it worth it. I've seen how that boy looks at you. Right now it's adoration, we need to make it so that boy's jaw drops every time he sees you."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Mercedes. I'm always making jaws drop."

She laughed and pushed me towards the bathroom. "Go get dolled up. We've got a to-do list to complete before this night ends."

-:-

Before me and Mercedes left the hotel I got onto Blaine's laptop and checked my email and Facebook. Spammed with happy birthday messages from co-workers and friends, not to mention family, I quickly thanked them all and apologized for not having a party they could all get trashed at (not really, I just said I was out of town and wouldn't be able to be back in time for a celebration, but the point was moot).

Puck had clogged up my email with links and stories to tell, and mostly questions as to where I was and why I hadn't been fired for missing work for two days. I constantly repeated myself in telling him that I had taken a week off for personal things, but he knew me too well to take that for an answer. The only thing I worried about was him running off to my dad, trying to get information out of him that he was also not-clued on, which would cause a lot of drama when I returned.

"Ready?" Mercedes asked as she put on a coat of lip gloss. I sighed and said yes, logging out of all my accounts and shutting the laptop before I followed her out, making sure I had my key card before it shut. Once sure that I had everything I needed, we headed out and down the hotel restaurant where we planned to get breakfast before we went shopping.

As we waited to be seated I spotted the familiar blonde from yesterday. He must've noticed me too because he walked over, a huge grin on his face.

"It's Kurt, right?" he asked. Mercedes eyed him like he was going to kidnap me.

I nodded. "And you're Sam."

"Sam I am," he agreed with a soft chuckle. I smiled back and Mercedes grabbed my arm.

"Our table's ready," she said in a low voice, almost as if it were a warning.

"Uh, if you don't mind do you think we could talk for a second?" he asked, looking rather concerned suddenly. I patted Mercedes arm.

"Go on, I'll be there in a sec."

I faced Sam after she walked away.

"So, I know it's none of my business and all, but are you and Blaine together?"

"Yes," I lied.

He nodded and seemed to believe me. "That's good. I'm happy to know he's with someone again."

"How long have you known him?" I was curious. Blaine and I had yet a chance to really dig deep into our pasts, which was actually a good thing seeing as how this wasn't a permanent thing.

"Since we were kids. Believe it or not he was my first boyfriend. My first everything, actually." He seemed just as shocked as I was.

"Oh, so you know him pretty well then."

He nodded. "Probably more than I'd like to."

I wanted to learn more, but it wasn't my business and from Blaine's unpleased attitude to Sam yesterday probably meant that he didn't want me to know.

"He's rather awkward, isn't he?" I threw out there.

Sam shook his head. "Not really. In my opinion he needs to let loose a little more."

_Are you kidding?_ If this guy was told that he couldn't bungee jump because there wasn't a cord he'd probably jump anyway.

It was obvious that Sam new a different Blaine than I did, and I deeply wondered what had happened to make Blaine change into the person who he was now.

"Well, I guess I'll let you return to your friend," Sam said, gesturing to the tables full of chatty guests. I smiled and said goodbye, heading back to Mercedes who was scrutinizing me like I'd just set up a bomb.

"Who was that?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Someone Blaine knows."

"What'd he want?"

"Just to talk."

"About what?"

"What is this, an interrogation? Relax, Mercedes, it's nothing to get all momma-bear about," I said to her, setting my napkin on my lap as we waited for the waiter to make his way to our table.

"I'm just looking out for you, boo," she replied.

"Speaking of boos, where is yours?"

She rolled her eyes and flapped a hand in the air. "Off doing something. He found out I had plans so he made his own."

"Ah, well I take it then there's no surprise party being set up at the room?"

Mercedes glared but grinned. "Now if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"

"So there is a surprise party. I'll do my best to act it. How is this?"

I gave her a handful of surprised expressions to choose from and in the end we both took turns seeing who could pull off the better expressions. I favored for me, but she claimed I was biased and asked our waiter to pick a winner. He chose me after I announced it was my birthday.

In the middle of breakfast she got a text and smiled widely, and then tried to hide it when I noticed.

"Would you like to share with the class?" I asked her, laughing a bit.

She glared. "Nope. Just something sweet from Anthony. You don't want to hear about our sex-capades."

I shivered. "My innocent ears."

She snorted. "Please. The only thing that's innocent at this table is the fruit. Maybe." She put her napkin on the table, covering her cellphone. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to to the bathroom. Don't disappear on me. I will cut you."

"I like how my body is, thank you very much."

She walked away and I lunged for the cellphone, heading to her texts. Sure enough there was one from Blaine and I quickly read it.

_I lost a shoe._ - B

"That was uneventful," I muttered to myself. I quickly put her cellphone back and felt my brows knit. Why in the world would Blaine and Mercedes be texting about that? Especially on my birthday? It might have been selfish of me, but weren't these two planning something huge? Was I mistaken?

Mercedes came back and took in my expression.

"You went through my phone, didn't you?"

I nodded and before she could scold me a river of questions came out of my mouth. "Why is Blaine losing shoes? Is it his shoe? What is he doing that has shoes involved? Where is he? Why isn't he having breakfast with us? What's going on? What are you guys up to? Did Blaine find the shoe? Why-"

Mercedes threw a palm up and glared. "Calm your ass down, Hummel. Breathe. It's your birthday, stop stressin' and enjoy it with me. Hell, I never see you anymore."

"I know, and I'm sorry. It's just... It's my birthday and we're in Vegas and shouldn't it be "Kurt Day" or something?" I asked, moping into my hand.

"Honestly, this is your present. And I know it ain't much but Blaine noticed how much you missed me and he figured that a day of just us would be a great present. And he's buying you a birthday present and apparently he took his shoes off to try some on and lost a sneaker or something," she said as she read a recent text.

I sighed and slumped into my seat.

"What? Am I not good enough for your birthday?" Mercedes didn't look hurt, but I couldn't tell if she was joking or not.

"You're wonderful. I just expected more."

"Cheer up. You've got an entire day of celebrating. Breakfast was just mandatory; you know how you get if you don't get healthy food in you before you go out."

We finished breakfast and headed out of the hotel and made our way to the strip. Mercedes linked her arm with mine and forced me to smile as we flounced about, making our way into shops and sights.

"I didn't want to sound rude or anything, but I'm sort of dying here," she began while looking at some shirts, eyeing me every now and again. "What are you wearing?"

I glanced down and sort of shook my head. "I freaked. You said nice. And then sexy. And I didn't have anything sexy except for you know, the stuff I'd wear at work. And then I couldn't figure out what genre of nice would be acceptable and I thought of nice for every other guy on this planet who wasn't me or even close to being me and I ended up with dress-shirt-and-new-jeans nice. I hate it. It's too..." I searched for a word.

"Normal," she suggested. I nodded and grimaced. Normal? Me? This was really starting to turn out to be a pathetic birthday that met anything but my expectations.

"It's nice, though. If anyone back at Lima saw you there jaws would definitely drop, so you're halfway there."

I scrunched my nose. "Not sexy, though, right?"

She shrugged. "I don't know what Blaine thinks is sexy. But yeah, it's pretty sexy."

No, it's not. Blaine wouldn't even consider this sexy. Not enough skin is showing and I'm not pretending to be what the costume says I am. I'm not sexy because I'm not a stripper right now. And Blaine will probably think that there's no way he can be seen with me outside the hotel anymore and he'll just screw me and leave. Like a whore.

God, I'm such a whore.

"Holy shit, Kurt! Are you having a heart attack or something?" Mercedes put a hand on my cheek and ran it across my forehead.

"Panic attack," I muttered at some point. An employee and her pulled me to a chair and sat me down. I recall water being put in my hand but I couldn't drink it because I was shaking too much.

I was really losing it, wasn't I? I shouldn't be caring what Blaine thought of me. Hell, I didn't even want Blaine to think of me as anything more. But I didn't want him to think anything less, either. This was just supposed to be a job. Nothing more. It's not like we'd both walk away from this changed people or anything. Or together. Or in love.

We were just two strangers. That was it.

God, I needed to get a hold of myself. I was thinking too much about this. It's my birthday. I shouldn't be acting like this.

"Should I call Blaine?" Mercedes asked. I shook my head.

"I'm fine."

I stood up and drank some of the water, feeling myself calm down as I put the negative thoughts behind me.

"I was here yesterday with Blaine, and I saw something that made me think of you. Come on, I'll show you."

We continued on like that until lunchtime, Mercedes constantly worried I'd freak out on her while she was in the dressing rooms. I kept a smile on my face and threw myself into finding her a killer outfit. It distracted me enough to keep me from freaking out.

They were happening a lot since my arrival to Las Vegas, the panic attacks. I'd get them back home, too, but mostly when I did a really bad job at the club or when I'd spill something on my designer clothes, which probably forced me to work harder at stripping so I could buy more clothes to replace the ones that I'd ruin. And ever since Blaine showed up that day and offered all that money I'd been a wreck. I couldn't not take the money, especially when I needed it. But didn't I have more class than that?

Actually being here made it worse. I had actually agreed to sleep for money. I was lower than I ever had been before and I was so disappointed in myself.

The worst part was that I could stop this. Blaine would understand. Hell, he'd probably make sure I got first class back to Ohio. And that was another issue. Had I been doing this with anyone other than Blaine I'd be back in Ohio. But it was Blaine and he was so awkward and adorable and nice and for a horny gay man he didn't push me, but that was probably because of the terms I had set up.

In any other circumstance I'd have hoped that Blaine and I could get involved with a relationship rather than a strangers/friends-with-benefits sort of thing. I was glad that he was nice and all, but it was like this: if I felt horrible for doing this, he must've felt a million times worse.

But maybe I didn't know him enough to make that accusation, after all, Sam had said Blaine wasn't always this way. I was thinking too much about this. Blaine and I had only one more night. Tonight. Tomorrow we will probably head back to Ohio. Whatever it was that Blaine and I were doing was coming to a close.

Am I horrible for thinking that I'd hope something more would come out of this? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I couldn't have a relationship that started like this. I simply wouldn't.

Who am I kidding? Of course I would. But that's only because I was just as desperate to be with someone as Blaine was for sex.

"Excuse me, are you Kurt Hummel?" someone asked. I looked over at the pants rack next to mine. An older man with a white beard squinted at me through his glasses. I felt a soft grin grow and I nodded.

"Yes, I am."

He smiled at me and stuck his hand in his pocket, handing me a folded piece of paper. He walked away after that, grabbing an older woman with him and left the shop. I quickly opened the white sheet and read what was on it.

_Someone's going to ask you a question._  
_Say yes._

I laughed, mostly because I was frightened. Mercedes returned from a dressing room and looked at me, smiling cautiously.

"What's so funny?"

I handed her the note and she read it over and over.

"Where'd you get this?" she asked.

"An old man gave it to me. He knew who I was. Mercedes, if you and Blaine have some tricks up your sleeve you better start to let me in on it. I'm starting to get worried."

She frowned. "There are no tricks. I promise. I'm just as puzzled as you are."

"Text Blaine. Ask him if he did this."

I felt even more worried when she pulled out her cellphone and texted him. It only confirmed my worries and the fact that neither of them had planned this.

"He replied. He says that he didn't do it. He also says that we should probably also get to a public place just in case."

"In case of what?" I asked in hysterics. Mercedes shook her head.

"No clue. Let me pay and we'll go out for lunch."

I bit my lip and looked at everyone as if they were the devil, avoiding eyes that would meet mine. I gripped onto Mercedes and let her lead me to whatever restaurant was the most busiest. Obviously she wasn't as worried as I was. She stopped at a cart that displayed jewelry and chatted with the lady.

I waited a few feet away from her, ringing my hands and glancing at the crowd around me. No one seemed to notice me and they moved around me when I blocked their way. A couple and three little kids stopped behind me. The mother was drowning in bags; totes, shopping bags, even a diaper bag and a purse. The husband tried to keep the three little blonde girls from throwing fits while trying to help relieve the mother of her baggage-burdens.

One of the little girls, who seemed to be the oldest, tugged on her mother's shirt and begged for a toy they must've baught. The mother told her to wait and she began to search for whatever it was the little girl wanted. The littlest, who was probably almost four, started to cry after the father accidentally bumped into her as he took some bags. He then began to comfort her as the mother finally got the toy. The third one must've felt left out because she started to whimper and got into the bags that were on the ground.

Both the parents told her to stop but they were busy juggling everything. The man's eyes met mine and he gave me a desperate plea.

"Would you like some help?" I asked, walking over to them.

"That'd be very sweet of you. We're trying to make it back to our car but we got caught up in the crowd and our kids..." the mother said softly.

I nodded and smiled at them.

"Do you think you could hold Sohpie so I can get the rest of the bags?" He bounced the littlest one in his hands, showing me who he was talking about.

"Of course." I reached out to the girl and she easily climbed into my arms, wrapping her little legs around my chest and resting her head on my shoulder. Her curls scratched my cheek.

"She's a bit tired from all the walking and the heat," the mother said. I nodded in understanding and rubbed my hand on the little girl's back.

Suddenly the music that had been playing stopped but the crowd continued on. The family set their bags down and tried to figure out who'd carry what. I jumped when the music turned back on, louder than it had been.

Instantly the family broke out into dance, the two little girls joining and perfectly executing the dance moves their parents were doing. Sophie pulled up and looked at them, nearly as curious as I was. A group of frat-boys joined in a few moments later, and then even more people joined in.

A flash mob broke out, people running out of stores and leaving their tables and food to dance along. Mercedes appeared then, conquering and taking lead of anyone. I saw a boy and a girl do back flips near the sides and a circle grew in around me, putting me and Sophie in the middle. She wiggled her way down and gripped onto my hand, jumping up and down as everyone danced around us.

I literally went in circles as I watched the flash mob continue from all angles, finding myself stopping short when I spotted a familiar face bobbing through the crowd.

Blaine kept up with the dance moves and he made his way closer to me, a goofy smile on his face as he cut past Mercedes and another girl. His eyes locked on mine and jumped onto an empty cart, making himself the tallest person here.

The music started to die down and the crowd came to a closing number. They all made a pose when the music died and Blaine held a black microphone to his mouth.

"Happy birthday to you," he started to sing. The crowd joined in as they stood normally. "Happy birthday to you."

Sophie sang along, her hand still in mine as she jumped about.

"Happy birthday, dear Kurt." Blaine pointed behind me and I looked over my shoulder. Three people pushed a large cake towards me. It was tall and white and covered in colorful dots. "Happy birthday to you."

The crowd all hooted and clapped and a showgirl popped out of the cake. It was silly and I was expecting it, but I jumped and laughed. It rained confetti then and I heard Blaine's voice.

"Happy birthday, Kurt. I know that birthday's aren't always great for you, so I thought that'd I'd make this one unforgettable." Oh, it was. "Sophie? Did you find my shoe yet?"

I looked down at Sophie and then at Blaine. He was staring at me, a large smile on his face. Sophie let go of my hand and sank into the crowd, returned a minute later with what I suspected as Blaine's shoe. She handed it to me with a white smile.

I grabbed it, thanking her. I tried to keep the confused look off my face but I couldn't help it. I heard Blaine's laugh echo around me.

"Look in the shoe, Kurt," he ordered. I looked down and saw white. I pulled out two tickets that read "Phantom: The Las Vegas Spectacular". I looked up at Blaine, eyes wide, and the crowd laugh.

"Wait until you find my other shoe," he chuckled. There was applause and I saw people high five and hug each other through the corner of my eyes, but they were naturally stuck on Blaine, who got off the cart and thanked people. He caught me staring at him and he winked.

I was in love with Blaine Anderson.

* * *

**Ending Note:** This chapter went rather smoothly for me. At first I was stuck but as soon as I got into it I couldn't stop. What did you think of Kurt taking over for this chapter? His birthday isn't over yet so he could stick around for a bit, or would we like to see what Blaine has planned now that most of the surprises are done? Plus Blaine really didn't get a chance to be romantic in this chapter, what with the flash mob and all.

Thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Simply put, you guys are amazing and I'm just hoping that I won't ever disappoint you all. I also hope that none of you think this story ends after the three day/night thing. There is no possible way that I, you guys, or Blaine and Kurt can walk away from this with nothing really to show for it.

* * *

**Kurt**

"I would literally give away my soul if only to spend a day in your brain," I stated to Blaine as we made our way to a small restaurant and bar on the strip. He only smiled at me and pulled a chair out for Mercedes. She smirked at him and immediately I knew that Mercedes approved of him. I wasn't sure why, but I was thrilled that she did.

He pulled a chair out for me and waited for me to sit before he tucked it in. I watched him as he sat beside me, trying to seem calm by moving things around on the table. He lined up the salt and pepper shakers and put the laminated desert menus in a narrow pattern. I laughed at him and he smiled at me before casting his eyes away from mine.

"Seriously, Blaine. You should have seen him all morning. The boy looked he was about to blow up all over Vegas. I was starting to worry," Mercedes said as she looked over the menu.

"I wish I could have," he replied.

I rolled my eyes at him. "What was with the damn shoe thing?"

"I wanted to make you think that this day was going to be shit."

"Mission accomplished."

We all ordered our lunch and giddily smiled at each other. Mercedes and Blaine would catch each other's eyes and burst out laughing, leaving me awkwardly chuckling along. They were like two kids in class who caught a case of the giggles and would try to stop before the teacher scolded them for it, but it only made the situation that more funny. They got a hold of themselves just as the food arrived.

"All right, so let me just make sure that I've got this all sorted because it's still a bit fuzzy for me," I began, mostly to avoid eating. My stomach was too tense for food. "You called Mercedes after I went to bed and begged her to drag me around all over the strip just so could organize a flash-mob?"

Blaine smiled proudly and sat up in his chair. "Actually, the flash-mob planning only happened after I called Mercedes. I went through hell and a back to organize this. Luckily for me a friend back in Ohio had a friend here who owned a dance company who put together flash-mobs. You know what, why am I telling you this? Just be happy that you got a friggin' flash-mob."

I narrowed my eyes at him but grinned, trying to make my face seem angry even though I was feeling euphoric on the inside. "You are no fun."

He pouted and blinked his eyes. "But I'm giving chu the best berfday eva'."

"What accent is that?" Mercedes asked, making a face of disgust. Blaine shrugged and his face returned to normal.

"This day has been incredible," I sighed as I poked at my salad.

"And it's not even over yet," Blaine pointed out.

We spent the next half hour eating and talking about today's events. Blaine admitted to the old man and the mysterious order on the paper being his idea, even though he said it wasn't. I had said 'yes' to the father when he asked me to hold his daughter, who needed a babysitter (which turned out to be me) while the family and the rest of crowd danced.

"Blaine, you should like, give Anthony tips on how to be the best boyfriend, like, ever," Mercedes said jokingly, a valley-girl accent spilling out. I kicked her under the table and she smirked at me, giving me a non-dramatic "ow!" as I glared at her. Blaine wasn't used to her humor; I didn't want him thinking she was mocking him or anything like that.

Blaine ignored my warning glances at her and grinned at me. "Well, firstly I need to make sure that I am a pretty damn good boyfriend. Kurt, what do you think? Am I stellar or what?"

I wanted to make a comment about him using the world "stellar" but I couldn't get over his words or the way he was looking at me like I was actually his other half or how Mercedes had risen and eyebrow and watched how he and I gave each other a glance. Mine was asking him what he was doing, his was asking me to answer.

It was moments like these that confused me most about Blaine and his intentions with me. He was obviously keeping a pretense, for Mercedes sake, but he didn't have to try and push the envelope. He could have let the comment go and just blushed or smiled or anything other than this. What was he doing? What was he thinking? How did he feel about me and why does he look at me like that? Like he's known me his entire life. Why does he act like that I'm not being paid for this or that things should always be awkward between us and that we're not meant to flirt with each other or give each other incredible birthday presents or flash mobs or romance.

What in the world is he doing?

"Kurt? Are you going to answer my question or what?" Blaine pressured once I never answer. I grinned at him softly and excused myself from the table.

I needed a moment.

My intentions had been to go to the bathroom but I needed air that was a little more fresh and a lot less clustered. I went out the front doors of the restaurant. I sat down right outside and leaned my back against the wall, watching as many people walked past. I had thought that I was sneaky about it, but before I knew it Blaine was standing in front me, his hands in his pocket and his face full of concern.

"What are you doing?" he asked kindly.

I shrugged. "Sitting here."

He smiled. "You don't seem like the kind that just sits on public ground where people walk and spit and stuff."

I looked down at the cement below me and frowned. "Gross." I knew things were bad when I didn't really care enough to get up.

Blaine chuckled and sat beside me, his knees grazing mine as he crossed his legs. I could feel his body pressed against mine and I shivered at the warmth, which was odd to be feeling since I was sitting right below the blazing sun. He looked at me and he smiled once again.

"So, why are you sitting here instead of eating lunch with me and Mercedes?"

"I'm not hungry."

I was waiting for Blaine to make a snide comment or ask why, but he didn't, which bothered me. I hated it when he went quiet on me and left me alone to wonder what he was thinking.

"One more day," he said suddenly.

"Are you sad?" I asked back, whispering.

"Am I a freak if I say yes?" He laughed at himself and picked up a pebble of the ground.

"Not at all."

He turned his attention to me then, his eyes glued to mine. He smiled at me, but not one of those overly dramatic or happy ones. One of those grateful ones that say everything that needs to be said.

"Thank you," I said with a smile of my own.

"For what?"

"Everything."

* * *

**Blaine**

Mercedes left, only after Anthony arrived to pick her up. It broke my heart to see Kurt say goodbye to her, mostly because this would be the last time he saw her until God knows when. I could tell he was fighting back tears as they hugged, but he couldn't stop himself when he noticed that she was crying. I watched them as the put their fingers together and did a little finger wave, touching finger tip to finger tip. They smirked at each other and pushed their bangs back in a stylish way before they hugged one last time with a laugh.

She turned to me and gave me that mother-like smile and pulled me into a hug.

"Be good to my boy," she whispered in my ear, hugging me tighter. "Please."

"I will. I promise."

That broke my heart.

I was keeping a promise that I may not be able to keep. I wanted to keep it, God, I wanted that more than anything. But it wasn't my decision to make. I couldn't force Kurt to be _my_ boy. I couldn't force him to allow me to be good to him. We were about to spend our last night together and from what I could tell the night life wasn't kind to us.

Kurt and I watched as she and her boyfriend drove away, leaving us to continue celebrating Kurt's birthday on our own.

We put all of our things away in the hotel and freshened up momentarily before we walked hand-and-hand to the Phantom Theatre at the Venetian. We talked about little things, mostly the things we saw as we walked past them. Once again there wasn't much to be said between us, even though I knew I had a lot to say. I'm sure Kurt did, too.

"So, you don't hate me anymore," I stated as we made our way into the theatre.

He took his seat and his hand found mine. "I never hated you to begin with. I was just put off by you."

I laughed. "Sorry about that."

"I'm sorry for being a bitch. It's just...instinct," he replied.

"Have you always been like that?"

He nodded his head. "Gay and in a high school full of closed minded bullies - yeah, pretty much."

"Glad you made it out alive," I stated.

"Barely." He turned and looked at me, his blue eyes shining through the dimming lights. "But me too."

The show began.

I didn't watch it.

I watched Kurt.

-:-

Once the show was finished, Kurt and I walked back to the hotel, him relishing in the show and smiling widely as he told me his opinions on it and other things he'd seen. I kept my eyes down, mostly on our intertwined hands, and would look up at him often, just to let him know I was interested in the things he had to say even if I didn't really understand much.

Suddenly he changed his monologue about seeing a musical live rather than a movie version and said, "You're an awkward llama, Blaine."

I coughed. "I'm a what?"

"A llama...that is awkward."

"If anyone is an awkward llama, it's you."

"I'm a little awkward, but I know how to talk without saying something stupid. No offense."

I rolled my eyes. "Please enlighten me."

He pulled me to a stop and turned to face me, our hands slightly swinging.

"I haven't met a lot of gay guys, but the ones I have have mostly been closet cases or men who enjoy their twinks and trophies. But by far, I've never met a gay like you."

"Well, young grasshopper, we all can't be gay cliches like you."

He glared and scoffed. "I resent that."

"I'm kidding," I replied, grabbing his free hand into mine.

"Kurt - " I paused and scrunched my nose, "What's your middle name?"

He blushed. "Uh, Elizabeth."

"Shut up! It is not!"

"It is! Well, technically I was born without a middle name so I got to pick one and I chose that in elementary school and it just stuck."

"Your parents never gave you a middle name?" I asked.

"They couldn't decide. My dad wanted Benjamin, my mom wanted Johnathan. She was in labor. There was family. They just mutually agreed to forget about it and let me decide," he explained, his cheeks glowing red.

I laughed and leaned over, my sides hurting slightly from the real-comedic tale. I could feel him glaring at me and I pulled myself together. I took deep breaths and put a serious face on, trying to get my thoughts back. Once I was sure that I had settled, I pulled our hands up and put them to my chest.

"Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, I need to tell you something." His eyes lit up in panic. "Relax. I'm not going to ask you to marry me or anything." He let out a deep breath of relief and I chuckled.

"Go on."

I smiled at him, laughing a bit. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, just as puzzled as I thought he'd be.

"For coming to Vegas with me. For taking a chance. For being amazing."

He opened his mouth to speak but closed it right after. He leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, sending a fire through my veins. Ironically I shivered at the touch of his lips on mine and pressed them back, my hands finding their way out of his and securing across his back. His hands stayed on my chest and kissed me harder, yet far too soft for my liking.

He pulled away and smiled at me. "You're welcome."

And in that infinite moment, it had hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in love with Kurt. I was completely and utterly in love with a total stranger.

_I was in love._

* * *

**Ending Note:** It's a really short chapter. Sorry. I have a case of the block and this is all that would come out. I even tried to write smut but it failed and I dare not try again.

Kurt and Blaine are officially in love, but neither know how the other feels so with that comes a lot of things that need to be said.


	8. Chapter 8

I wasn't a morning person. The minute I come back from my subconscious is the beginning of what I would always suspect to be a horrible today. Usually I'm right. I like it when I'm wrong. But God hates me.

My eyes opened up slowly, the tiredness causing them to shut immediately as any blurry thing came into visual. I could tell morning was almost over just by how groggy my body felt. I nuzzled my head in my pillow, only to feel something itchy against my cheek. I tried harder to open my eyes and smiled at the sight of Kurt's head below my chin. I could feel his warm breathing against my bare shoulder and I tightened my grip on him. Last night had been like a dream, in fact, it still felt like one. Kurt hadn't ever been this affectionate when we did things, and he had so adorably asked me if he could sleep in my bed with me. Of course I said yes. Why would I deny a beautiful naked boy otherwise?

There was a noise that made me jump, causing Kurt to rise up with my body. He remained sleeping as the noise continued on.

I frowned and slowly got out of the bed, making sure that Kurt didn't wake as I went to the source of the sound, pulling my boxers on and rushing to the door.

I had been expecting room-service or house-keeping on the other side of the door, not Wes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I was excited to see him at first. And then I remembered. Kurt was here. I came to Vegas alone. Shit.

Wes smiled and held up a box of donuts and two coffees.

"Your dad told me to come see you. He says you haven't been answering your phone and I guess he thought maybe you were murdered or something."

I rolled my eyes and snorted. Wes walked past me, not even turning his attention to the sleeping guy in my bed.

He put the make-do breakfast on the table and turned around, still smiling. "Glad to see you're alive."

"Thanks. Why didn't you call me?" I was still whispering. I tried to block my bed from his vision.

"I tried. No answer. Plus I figured you could use the company," he stated. He looked me up and down then, casually moving a bit to his right and glancing at Kurt. I felt my eyes fall to the floor and I crossed my arms. "Or not."

"Let's go in the other room," I said.

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Other room?"

I grabbed him by his wrist and shushed him, pulling him into Kurt's room and shutting the door.

"I thought you said you were coming here alone," he hissed.

Think, Blaine. Use that brain. Come up with some lie. Shit. Shit. Today is going to suck. Shit.

Ding.

"Uh, well, I did come alone. I met him at a bar last night. You told me to get laid, didn't you?" Nice.

"David will be so proud to hear about this," Wes said, taking in Kurt's things in his room. Shit. "Last night, huh?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "Fuck. All right. I came to Vegas with him. Just don't tell anyone."

Wes just stared at me. He looked pissed but amused, and then he looked suspicious and I knew that I must have lost my brain in some form of accident I wasn't aware of.

"Blaine. Just." He paused, closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. I joined him.

"I know."

"How about we drink our coffee, inhale some donuts and then you'll tell me what the hell you think you're doing, okay?"

And we did. Quietly I went into the other room and pulled on a shirt and pants, watching Kurt sleep peacefully as I did my best to make sure things were done in silence. I joined Wes back in Kurt's room and we sat on the floor, avoiding each other until we were sure that we had done our best to not say anything up until this point.

"Me and David convinced you to come to Vegas, Blaine. But you told everyone you were coming alone. Who is that guy?" he asked me, keeping himself from shouting.

"His name's Kurt. He's a stripper at Fire and Ice," I stated.

"We really shouldn't have left you alone, huh?"

"Duh."

"How in the world did you get a stripper to come with you to Vegas? You didn't pay him, did you?" My silence answered that. "Blaine! What the fuck?"

"Shut up! You'll wake him up!" I said, throwing my hand over his mouth. Wes slapped my hands away and glared at me.

"We said for you to go have some fun. Not with a prostitute."

"He's not a prostitute. He's just..." What was Kurt?

Wes threw his hands up in the air and stood up. "Blaine, if you pay someone for sex that makes them a prostitute. Which is illegal. If anyone found out about this-"

I jumped up and grabbed his shoulders, looking deep into his brown eyes. "And no one is going to find out about this, right? Because you wouldn't want your best friend going to prison, right?"

He shook his head and sighed once more. "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

"You should go," I said, releasing him and picking up our garbage.

"I can't. I'm staying out here for a while," he replied, helping me.

"Then you need to at least leave the hotel."

"I will. But what you're doing is really fucked up, Blaine."

_Yeah, tell me something I don't know._

We opened up the door and noticed that Kurt was already awake. Fully dressed he sat on the edge of the bed, his arms casually crossed.

"Morning," he greeted. No smile. No bells. Something about the lack of life in him told me that he had heard me and Wes.

Wes waved at him. "Hi, I'm Wes. A friend of Blaine's."

Kurt nodded. He didn't say anything. He probably didn't want to.

I walked Wes out, making him promise me like some little kid that he wouldn't say anything to anyone. When I returned back to the hotel room, Kurt was still sitting in the same spot, his eyes watching me as I sat beside him.

"I don't know what to think," he began. "Obviously I'm a disgusting person for agreeing to this, but that would mean you're just as disgusting."

I shrugged. "I'm not really all that worried about a label. We did what we did and it's over with. We're going back to Ohio."

"Back to our lives."

"Exactly," I sighed.

"When are we leaving?"

I checked the clock and glared at the red letters. Time was up. "We need to be out of here in about thirty minutes."

"I'll get my stuff."

"Kay."

Just like that things changed. Things went from being romantic and fun to hard and cold. Kurt refused to look me in the eye and I didn't dare get to close to him. I had honestly thought that maybe something more would have come out of this, but that's because I was delusional. And in love.

I waited for him outside the hotel room, my bags resting at my feet as I smiled nicely at the people that walked by. When Kurt came out of the room he looked up at me, his cheeks red with exertion from carrying his heavy bags.

"Ready?" he asked. For a moment it was like he forgot he was upset. His eyes had a twinkle and there was a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He realized he was happy to see me, but then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be and his face turned hard.

"Nearly," I replied, anger in my tone. I walked over to him, put his face in my hands and kissed him.

Without waiting for him to do anything back I pulled away and picked up my bags and headed to the elevator. I wasn't sure if he was following me or not, but at some point I heard a bag drop and him curse silently.

-:-

The plane ride back to Ohio was much like the one we took to Las Vegas. Kurt gave me the cold shoulder, but instead of feeling embarrassed and awkward I felt just as pissed. He had absolutely no right to treat me like this. Sure I was stupid and careless about this whole situation, but _he had agreed. _I did not force him to do this. If he should be mad at anyone, it should be himself.

He was, though. I could tell that he was having inner battles and it was probably killing him a bit. I couldn't even stay mad at him because I felt so guilty. He was in the worse part of the situation: I had asked. He had said yes. The latter was more shameful and all I wanted was to come out as the bigger asshole of this whole thing, but I couldn't.

"Kurt," I said to him as the plane began to land. It was the first time either of us had spoke.

He turned to me and bit his lip. I couldn't say anything. I just smiled at him and faced the seat in front of me. I could hear him sigh in disappointment.

_Me too, Kurt. Me too._

-:-

Kurt and I said a casual/obligated goodbye at the airport, but that was it; no hugs, no thanks, no anything. We both went our separate ways and that was that. I had managed to give him the rest of his money during the goodbye, and I just hated myself by doing that. Kurt had looked rather depressed when he took the check from me, but part of me could tell he was grateful. He was probably thinking how at least he got the money out of this whole thing. I know I would have been. Maybe.

It was weird to be back home, but it was completely relaxing and secure. I didn't have to worry about making someone else comfortable or trying to find things to do that weren't totally lame. I never thought that I was the kind of person to be addicted to laziness, but boy was. Television had never seemed so calming and I wasn't aware that I spoke fluent internet lingo until I got on Facebook and spoke to everyone about Vegas. Kurt went unmentioned, except for the "yeah, I did meet a nice guy" comments. I quickly changed the subject so no more questions about him popped up.

I even did the creepy thing where you search someone on Facebook and try to find out any and all information you can without adding them as a friend. He had everything on private and it was then and there that I decided that I wouldn't bother with him. If there was something that was supposed to be between us it was gone and there was no use in trying to make anything. Clearly Kurt and I couldn't deal with each other and the things we had done. We had just been two strangers having a little fun. Fun time was over.

I needed a drink.

-:-

"You're really pushing it, Blaine," my mom nagged. "Lucy's about to go on!"

"I know. I'm sorry," I replied, keeping my voice down as I made my way through the aisle to sit next to her.

Today was the talent show, and Lucy was last to preform. I had spent the morning trying to kill a hangover and ended up sleeping until nearly two. By the time I had made it to Lucy's school in Westerville, the talent show had already started and from what I had heard, Lucy was having a bit of a meltdown when she noticed I hadn't arrived.

The band that was playing wrapped up and they thanked the audience before rushing off the stage. Two of the school's student council members came onto the stage and asked the audience about their opinions on the band. Of course everyone clapped and cheered politely. They settled and the speakers began some lame award-show banter to introduce Lucy. I was surprised to hear loud hoots and hollers as she came on-stage, wearing what looked to be a floral summer dress. She waved at some people she recognized.

The auditorium went quiet and I could hear her breath in the microphone. She put a shaky hand onto it and squinted through the spotlight and searched the audience.

"Go Lucy!" I shouted and her eyes found mine. She smiled widely and the music started to preform the song we had rehearsed together.

After her song, the other contestants joined her on stage and the two upperclassmen went to the side of the stage, holding three trophies.

"What a fantastic show!" said the girl.

"Who knew we had such talented classmates?" came the boy's rebuttal.

The band previous to Lucy's performance were handed the third place trophy. Second place went to a girl wearing a black dress with black tights. I had leaned over and asked my mom what she did.

"She played the violin. It was good."

In anticipation to first place, I felt myself lean forward on my seat and listened intently.

"And first place goes to Jason McKenzie!"

There were cheers and shouts as the boy grabbed the trophy and shouted back at the crowd. He did a front-flip on stage and nearly fell of the stage. With the look of disappointment on Lucy's face I was considering running up there and pushing him off.

The auditorium began to empty and we slowly made our way out into the parking lot. Lucy was already there, leaning against my car.

"I'm going with you to the restaurant," she declared in a sullen tone. I nodded and waved a 'see ya in a bit' to my mom and Tom.

"Sorry you didn't win," I said to her as I pulled out of the parking lot. She shrugged and sniffed, her head faced out the passenger window so I couldn't see her cry. "Maybe next year?"

I tried to hold some conversations with her, but she only replied with shrugs and I gave up trying. I sang along to the radio and she reached over and shut if off, her cheeks flushed and eyes puffy.

We regrouped outside the restaurant and entered it, a facade of happiness finding all of us. Lucy smiled and waved at some familiar faces in the back. Tom and my mom held hands and made each other laugh. I followed behind them, my hands deep in my pockets as the waitress led us to a table. We only spoke of small talk as we waited for our meals, but once my mother was sure that we had all at least consumed a good portion of our somewhat expensive dinners she allowed for more serious and consequential talk to happen.

"How was Las Vegas?" she asked, her tone snooty.

"It was good. I had fun," I replied, poking at my pasta.

"That's good. You didn't gamble, did you?"

I sighed. "No. I'm not willing to take a chance at something like that." I was, but I hadn't thought about gambling during my time spent there. I was too preoccupied with other things. One other thing.

"Did you meet anyone?" Lucy asked, finally seeming like she was over her loss.

I smiled at her real interest. "Sort of."

"Oh," Tom chimed in. "Was there any romance involved?"

"Some. I tried my best to sweep him off his feet, but I think I might have failed."

"This was just some random boy?" my mom questioned, her face lit up with concern.

"Yeah. I'll probably never see him again."

It hurt to admit it, but it needed to be said.

My mom looked back at her food, suddenly less concerned. "That's too bad."

I nodded my head and looked over my shoulder, mostly to let the rest of the table know that I was done with the conversation. Tom picked this up and jumped into a tale about one of his (if not many) adventures in Las Vegas. Lucy threw out question after question and my mom managed not to choke over some inappropriate-for-Lucy talk. The restaurant was full of life, mostly because it was a Friday. I spotted some old friends, all of which seemed to be happy and settled down. Allison from freshman year had a little girl sitting on her lap as she nagged at her husband, who I recognized as an old bully of mine. Then there was Robert who got bullied like I did, but he seemed happy enough with his super model-esque wife. Other faces were familiar from my mom's neighborhood and the rest were just faces that meant nothing to me.

However, in the far back I did recognize a face that I hadn't suspected to be here.

Sitting with three others like me was Kurt. He was smiling widely as a man with a baseball cap said something that needed his hands involved to explain. The woman besides the older man stared in surprise but was just as amused. She turned her head and jabbed an elbow at a brown-haired young man at her side. He blinked and smiled, clearly confused as to what was going on. I watched them, all smiles and laughs and only a few red faces of embarrassments. I recall my family trying to say things to me but I just ignored them and watched as the family paid their bill and headed for the front doors. I realized that they'd have to pass my table and I snapped my eyes to my food, trying to hunch over.

I looked to see if they were gone, but unluckily caught the eye of Kurt. He didn't look surprised to see me, but he didn't look happy either. I smiled at him and he turned his attention to the tall boy in front of him. They left the restaurant and I excused myself and went to the bathroom, just so I could have a reason for looking out into the parking lot. The four climbed into a SUV and then drove away, and just like that I confirmed that not having anything do with Kurt would be for the best, even though it made my chest ache.

When I returned from the unneeded bathroom break, a waitress walked over to me.

"Blaine Anderson?" she asked. I nodded my head. She smiled and handed me a folded napkin and walked away.

I unfolded it, read it, and then crumbled it up and threw it away.

I returned to the table and made up an excuse to leave early. They all tried to fight me to stay, but I mumbled something about being sick. With a quick pace I walked out to my car and headed back to my place. The neon lights of a local bar was too distracting and I pulled up in front of it. I pulled out fifty bucks from my wallet and headed into the building, being greeted by loud music and hot air. It wasn't an ideal bar to drink at, but I needed a drink - bad.

The bar-tender served me a beer and I stared at a group of girls dancing to a country song. A drunk girl started to hit on me and I politely told her I wasn't interested. Following her failure a guy came up to me and tried to have a casual conversation, I told him I wasn't playing for his team and he walked away. Sure I had lied about being gay, but if it kept me from being bothered I'd continue to do it.

I drank three beers total and gave up when the bar-tender asked me if I wanted another. Instead I sat at the bar and waited for my buzz to fade, all the while going over the note I had been given.

It was from Kurt, obviously. But it had been unexpected. I was sure that he hated me, or at least wanted nothing to do with me. I was fine with that. I agreed that it was the best thing to do. But he threw me a total curve-ball and I wasn't sure whether I wanted to punch him or not.

"Are you sure you don't want another?" the bar-tender asked. "You look like you could use one."

I shook my head and he nodded, but before he could walk away I opened my mouth to speak. "So, there's this guy. He and I hooked up and spent about three days together. It was tense and weird and yet really amazing. But things ended on a bad note. If he says he's sorry, what does that mean?"

The guy blinked and began to pour a drink for someone. "Did he do something that he needed to apologize for?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe. Really I think I'm the one that should apologize, but he's not perfect either."

"Then maybe he's waiting for you to say you're sorry, too."

I pursed my lips. "So I should talk to him."

"Probably. The only way to really know anything is to go to the source."

"But what if you've already decided to let things be?"

He shrugged. "You need closure, don't you think? How can you let things be if you've left things like they are."

I put my hand in my pocket and fished out a ten, giving it to him as a tip before I pulled my jacket on.

Kurt wants to talk. All right. I have a lot to say, anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

I had been wrong.

Kurt apologizing on a red napkin, practically anonymous, hadn't been a message for us to talk. No, it was just a simply apology with an invisible "it was nice to meet you; so long and farewell" attached. It was a slight punch in the gut, especially when I had called him outside the bar, stuttering like a virgin teen who was about to get a taste of his very first muff (or cock...which ever). He never answered my call and I was faced with his chipper voice, instructing me to leave a message so he could get back to me. Sure. I'll believe that when you tell me pigs can fly and rendezvous with unicorns in Narnia.

I didn't leave a voicemail. What would I say? _Hey, Kurt, it's Blaine...you know that guy who payed you to fuck him? Yeah, well, I love you. We should get married, have a family and live happily ever after in some gay paradise! Does that sound cool with you? Hit me up._

Even I had to admit that I wasn't pathetic enough for that. Though, I was a coward - that remained true.

The next morning I awoke to my phone buzzing, alerting me of an incoming text. I reached for it, groaning at the fact that I had to get up and go back to work. Facing my father, Wes and David was not something I wanted to do, especially with where my life was headed: nowhere. The cellphone screen was bright and I dramatically screeched. When I was sure my eyes could take the sting I read the text, my heart pounding at the sigh of Kurt's name.

_As much as we need to talk, it would be best if we didn't. I'm sorry. I wish the best for you. _

_x Kurt_

There it was. Two sorries in less than twenty-four hours. Unwanted progress I wouldn't let myself dwell on. Instead I got out of bed and prepared for a day of obligated work.

I did my best not to think about him, but of course his beautiful, stupid face would appear when all other thoughts drifted from mind. It was healthy thinking of him, I figured. More so of the negatives than the positives, that way I could tell myself that he wasn't good enough for me, that he and I weren't meant to be, that he and I would destroy each other somehow. Unfortunately he and I hadn't spent enough time together to see each other's flaws and vices. Perhaps it was a good thing that we didn't know much about each other; we could easily forget. We'd both been in a situation that wasn't normal and we've seemed to bounce back from it pretty okay.

Being back at work wasn't agonizing like I thought it would be. If I was being honest with myself, I made it seem like a horrible place because I guess part of me wanted it to be. I wanted something to complain about and something that would make me feel like I had to leave it. I guess I was forcing some type of motivation for me to have a life I've always wanted when in reality, I was pretty okay with what I had under my feet. I had great friends and a semi-normal family. My job payed well and I really appreciated it, not that I let anyone in on that. And as I pulled into the parking lot behind the building, I realized that I had been far too stuck in denial and wondered where all this realization came from.

I tried to push the sudden epiphanies and resolves and made my way to my office, smiling politely at the faces that greeted me happily. My office was stuffy, mostly from the same air being closed in while I was out. I kept my door wide open and placed my bag on the desk in the middle. I went to the windows and opened them, shivering a bit at the cool air rushing in. I turned on my computer and slipped off my jacket, smiling to myself as I took a seat in my chair. Bethany, my secretary, came in with a few notes, filling me on what I've missed and what was happening. I was surprised that I didn't have a butt-load of work to do, but she told me that my father had taken care of it.

It didn't take long for him to come in. He looked happy enough, but there was a sort of spark in his eye that seemed to be waiting for a perfect moment to pounce. I sighed and asked myself if I was ready to fight with him.

"Wes said that you had fun in Vegas," he began.

I nodded. "Yeah. I really needed that. Thanks for letting me go."

His eyes narrowed at me through his glasses and I could tell he was wondering if I had gotten hit in the head or something.

"Are you all right, Blaine? You seem..." Even he couldn't describe what was going on with me.

"I'm fine. Just ready to get back to work. Is there anything you need to talk about?"

He cleared his throat and looked down on the floor, his brown shoes rubbing against the carpet.

"Who's Kurt Hummel?" I felt my mouth open, but no words came out. "I know he's here in Ohio, but how do you know him?"

"Through mutual friends," I responded.

He nodded and scratched his eyebrow. "And what's your relationship towards him? Friends...boyfriends..."

"We're nothing."

He nodded once more and turned around and slowly made his way to the door. Calmly he shut it. Never a good sign.

"Did Wes tell you about Kurt?" I asked, my hands balling into fists in my lap.

"Wes didn't mention a thing about him. He's a good friend," my dad said, his tone growing deep.

"I sure hope so," I muttered.

My dad looked me dead on and shook his head. "I know about everything. About him. About the money."

"How'd you find out?"

"An anonymous tipper," he stated. "Honestly, Blaine, where did I go wrong with you?"

I laughed without humor. "Geez, Father...I really wonder where."

"I knew that you had some issues, but never did I think you'd go and do something like this. He's six years younger than you."

I was about to rebuttal, tell him that age didn't matter. But then I remembered that I didn't need to defend Kurt. He and I were nothing to each other and everything was over.

I took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, my shoulders relaxing and my fingers easing out of the fists I had made.

"It's over with. You don't have to worry about him or me or anything else," I said lifelessly.

"What do you expect me to do about this, Blaine? Walk away and let things go?" His voice was calm and quiet, and I literally felt my stomach drop.

"I'm fired, aren't I?"

"Yes. I can't have you jeopardizing this company."

Nodding, I stood up and pulled my jacket back on and put my things back in my bag. I felt my dad's eyes on me as I slowly got my things together and left the office. I went unnoticed by most the workers in their cubicals, but a few of them that had known me for a long time could tell that something was up. Wes spotted me and cocked his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

"Blaine, what's up?" he asked. Without stopping to talk I only shrugged and told him I was fired. Hushed whispers went around the building and before giving anyone a chance to ask why or say goodbye I was already in my car and on my way to my apartment.

They always said there's a calm before a storm. I prayed that it wasn't true; this was the calmest I have ever been.

-:-

Nearing five o'clock there was a knock at my door. I unwilling paused a repeat episode of the Bad Girl's Club (I had a thing for catty girls) and opened it, trying my best to greet my two best friends who were making their way in.

"You're dad's a dick!" David chimed. "Why the fuck did he fire you?"

"Dee, leave it," Wes muttered as he pulled off his wet jacket and placed it on the coat rack.

David scoffed. "No way! Sure Blaine's a bit of an asshole but he didn't deserve to get fired."

"Thanks," I replied at the chance.

He tore off his own coat and put it where it goes. "Seriously, dude, why? Wes won't tell me why."

I glanced at Wes. He looked away and distracted himself with the movies on the coffee table.

"I'm taking it that Wes knows why, then, and if that's the case then I may have to end my friendship with him," I declared.

Wes snapped his attention to me. "I don't know why! I swear, Blaine. I did not say a single thing to your dad about him."

"Then how do you know I got fired over him?" I challenged.

"After you left your dad called me into his office and told me that you told him that I knew about Kurt and had lied to him about you being with anyone in Vegas."

David put his palms up and blinked. "Whoa. Who is Kurt?"

"Not right now, Dee," I hissed. I was too busy being pissed at Wes to explain anything. In the corner of my eye I could see him huff and cross his arms dramatically. He sat on my couch and un-paused my show and I knew that I'd have to take my anger out on him next.

"How did he find out about him, though? The only one who knew was you."

Wes clucked his tongue. "Was I?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah. I mean, when I got back home I did tell people that I had been with someone but I never mentioned anything about him."

"That's not what I meant," he said.

I shrugged. "Then what?"

"In Vegas. Was I the only one to find out about him?"

There was this look in his eyes, almost as if everything he was saying was pointless. And the way he had his arms crossed over his chest and the tapping of his foot proved that I was missing something.

"What do you know, Wes?"

He let out a breath and his body relaxed. "Other people knew about him being with you. One of them told your dad everything. Who would have done that?"

"The only people who saw us together were the staff and strangers. Kurt had a friend there and we pretended to be boyfriends. And then there was..." uh-oh "fuck."

"What?" Wes and David blurted at the same time.

"I bumped into Sam."

David coughed. "You mean trouty mouth Sam?"

"Yes."

"What happened?" Wes asked, taking a seat next to David so he could put the television on mute. The screaming and bleeps on the TV was a distraction.

"Kurt and I were having dinner and I went to the bathroom and when I came back Sam was sitting at the table _talking_ to him. I managed to get him alone and he was scolding me for being with Kurt or some stupid shit like that."

"But you didn't tell him who Kurt was exactly, right?" Wes asked, trying to seem hopeful.

"No. Not a thing," I replied. "Unless Kurt told him, but I'm pretty sure that isn't that case."

"How do you know? Maybe he's more willing to tell the truth," David butted in.

"Trust me, guys. I think Kurt would rather kill himself before he told anyone about me or what happened."

"Are you sure about that?" Wes threw out. "I know that you like him and want to trust him, but maybe he told someone."

I didn't want to admit it, but they were right. Even though it seemed unlikely that Kurt would tell anyone about me or Vegas or the money, it still didn't mean that it couldn't happen. But if he did, why would he? Unless he hated me enough to try to make my life a living hell. That seemed just as unlikely, seeing as how I gave him ten-thousand dollars that I could actually use myself, what with being fired and all. If Kurt had said anything to anyone, who would he tell? If it was Sam the only question would be: why? Sam was a stranger to Kurt, and sure I had told him that Sam and I had been together once before that didn't mean it should matter whether or not he knew.

I could see him coming clean to Mercedes. Though, she wouldn't run off to tell on me to my dad. She'd kill me. Maybe Kurt told my dad himself. The was likely. But it wasn't _like_ him. Kurt had too much pride to give in and sell-out, and after seeing him hate himself after accepting money for sex sure as hell proved that he wasn't willing to let it happen again. He was stubborn and bitchy, not a snitch.

How the fuck did my dad find out about this because it sure as hell was not Kurt.

I fished out my cellphone and called Kurt. He may have wanted to end all ties with me but I had to fix this. Not only had my ass been on the line but his was involved now. Unsurprisingly he didn't answer, and instead of being a pussy I left a message.

"Hey. Uhm. We need to talk as soon as possible. And I know that you said we shouldn't but it's really important. I got fired today...my dad knew, Kurt. About Vegas. I'm not sure how but I think we need to figure something out before something bad happens." I realized I was shaking and did my best to control my tremors. "The Lima Bean isn't too far from your work, so what if we meet up there around noon? I'll be there. Bye."

"Is anyone going to tell me who this Kurt is?" David asked in a whiny tone. Wes sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Tell him," I ordered as I headed to my room. I could feel their eyes on me as I shut the door. It wasn't polite to leave them, but I was exhausted and I needed sleep. Through my covers I could hear Wes tell David about Kurt. I could hear him describing him (I did manage to put it into words I would have used); blue eyes that pulled you in, adorable brown hair that was rich and fine and healthy, pale skin that was splotched with pink, a thin body that was just meant to hold, a face made for expressions to be seen and stories to be told. Kurt was so perfect to look at and I prayed to God that I would be able to see him again, even if it meant it would be the last time.

If I was going to get a second chance to say goodbye it wouldn't be meaningless like the last time. I'd make sure it was the greatest thing I did.

-:-

I was jittery as I took a sip of my coffee. I didn't need any more caffeine, but it gave me a purpose to be at The Lima Bean other than waiting. I checked my watch compulsively, sometimes making an attempt to slow down time using my mind. The noon hour was almost over and he hadn't showed up. I had finished my third cup of coffee and I knew my body couldn't handle much more of the hot brew. I was losing hope and I tried to get up to leave but my body wouldn't move. It would be easy to get up and move on with my life but I just wouldn't. He would come. He had to.

But he didn't. He didn't show up and I couldn't wait anymore. I got up out my chair, my body feeling like a sack of bricks as I went to the door. My hand shook as I reached the handle as I ran into a body as I stepped out.

"Sorry," I mumbled, my voice sounding like I was choking back tears.

"Sorry I'm late," the voice replied.

I looked up and he was there, his cheeks red and hair wind-blown. He wearing a black jacket that seemed to be mis-buttoned, which seemed silly since it was Kurt and he tried to be a perfectionist with the way he looked.

"My lunch is at one. I had to run here."

"It's all right," I replied.

Kurt walked passed me and into the building. Walking up to the counter he flashed a warm grin at the lady making coffee and asked for his usual. Within seconds the woman was handing him a coffee cup. He thanked her, paid for it and made his way to a table.

"Aren't you going to get something?" he asked me, his eyes not meeting mine.

I smiled as I sat. "I've been here for an hour. I'm all coffee'd out."

"Right. Sorry."

He sipped his coffee and glanced around the building until he had no choice but to settle his eyes on me.

"How are things?" I asked.

He smiled to himself. "Pretty great. I've been able to do some things that I've wanted to do for a while. I have to sleep in the living room now, though. My room's become something out of a Hoarders episode."

"Let me guess: clothes."

"You know it," he said with a laugh. "What about you?"

"Besides being fired? Pretty okay."

"That really sucks."

I nodded. "It's not like I can't get a new job. I won't keel over because of this."

"I didn't say anything to anyone, Blaine. I thought you should know that."

"I figured as much. I just wondered who told him."

"I think the better question is _why,_" Kurt stated.

"That is a better question," I replied. He smiled and nodded.

We stopped talking momentarily and I did my best to not watch him drink his coffee. We preoccupied ourselves with our cellphones as we waited for a topic to be thrown out, or until we could figure out who found out.

"You remember Sam, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "I didn't say anything to him."

"That's good," I said, relieved. "Did he try to pry out any information?"

Kurt thought it over. "Well, the first time we met...I think he was hitting on me so I talked about you. I didn't tell him we were official or anything, I just said that I was here with you. I did admit being your boyfriend to him later on."

"What else did you say to him?"

"He asked if I was native to Nevada and I told him I'm from Ohio." He groaned. "I guess he does know that I went with you."

I mentally cursed. "Then how did he figure out about the whole situation?"

He shrugged. "I have no clue, Blaine. Honestly I think we should just you know...let this slide. Maybe it will go away?"

"I guess you're right. After all, whoever found out went to my dad. He wouldn't be willing to let anyone else find out. It might ruin his reputation."

Kurt just took another sip.

"How long is your lunch?" I asked.

"Not long. I have to go back in about ten minutes," he sighed.

"Want a ride?"

It surprised me when he said yes.

Together we left the coffee place and walked to my car. I turned the volume of the stereo down and buckled my seat belt. Kurt did the same and put his coffee in the cup holder near the stick shift.

"It's supposed to rain all week," he said. "I really hate the rain. Not only does it ruin my hair but it's bad on quite a few of my outfits."

"Well, stop wearing dry-clean only clothes," I stated, laughing.

He clucked his tongue. "Please. Like I'd wear something that wasn't expensive."

"Money doesn't grow on trees, Kurt."

"Tell me something I don't know."

I laughed at him and he laughed back, and I realized how much I missed our banter.

I pulled up to the club and reminisced about the first time I met him. I guess Kurt was doing the same because he had a small smile on his lips.

"Why don't we want to be friends, Kurt?" I asked.

"Because it's easier than facing the inevitable truth about how we feel about each other," he replied, looking shocked that he knew the answer.

"And how do we feel about each other?"

He turned and looked at me, his eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he blinked slowly. "How do you feel about me?"

I smiled. "I love you."

He smiled back and his hand found mine. He intertwined our fingers and I watched him as he stared down at our hands.

"What a coincidence," he stated. "I love you, too."

I leaned over and pressed my lips against his and he obliged to them, his own pressing back. He pulled away, biting his lip to keep from smiling.

"I have to go. But I want to see you again," he said, his free hand on the handle as his other slowly made it's way out of mine.

"Same here. What time do you get off work?"

"Nine. Tuesdays are the only day of the week where I don't work graveyard hours. You can come pick me up," he suggested.

"I'll be here," I replied. He smiled and left the car and I watched as he entered the building with a man with a mohawk.

I pulled out and headed back to my place, smiling to myself. It was ironic. Instead of saying goodbye to Kurt I had said hello and it was so much better than the first time I had met him.

But the best thing about all of this is that he had said it back; those three words that I've refused to say since I was a teenager. I said them. He said them back. This was better than I could have imagined.

* * *

**Ending Note:** Something weird happened while I was writing. The first bit up to the sentence after Kurt's text was all written on paper, and then I sat down and typed that up and the words sort of just fell out and this weird energy kind of came out of Blaine and I couldn't stop it. Seriously. I'm just stunned at how great and easy this chapter came out.


	10. Chapter 10

Unsurprisingly, Kurt was late getting out of work. I didn't mind waiting the ten odd or so minutes. I kept myself busy by blasting the radio like a teenager and watching the drunken men walk out of the club, each one just as horny as they were when they arrived, maybe even more so. A chubby woman with a bride's veil stumbled out with a group of woman, all laughing and dancing and making complete fools of themselves. I couldn't help but to chuckle as one of them took a stumble off the curb, causing the rest to stop and heckle her.

I stared at the front black doors, patiently waiting for Kurt to step out of them. Only men went in and only a few came out, all of them looking sleazier than the last. It made my stomach clench; some of these guys had been watching Kurt - perving over him. The jealousy I felt was instant and too familiar for my liking. I hadn't really been thinking too hard about his "career." I had no reason to. I wasn't in any type of an established relationship with him for me to be able to express my opinions on what he did or chose to do.

There was a knock at my window and I jumped. Kurt was smiling at me and holding back a laugh. I tried to slow down my heart be as I quieted the volume and got out, trying not to let him see how embarassed I was.

"Where'd you come from?" I asked.

"Employee exit," he replied. "I wanted you to meet someone."

I finally looked up and noticed the guy with the mohawk from earlier.

"'Sup," he said with a wink.

I blinked. "Uh, hi."

"Blaine, this is Noah - or Puck," Kurt said, all smiles and glee.

"Which is it?" I asked, taking the guy's hand in mine.

With a tight grip and a casual shake he said, "Puck."

"All right, Puck," I acknowledged. We released hands and he looked me up and down, which was fine by me because I was doing the same.

His look was very Indie-Rock N' Roll; black skinny jeans (not too tight), a long sleeved, gray, cotton shirt and a necklace with the Star of David hanging from it. He looked normal to me, but I wondered how I looked to him.

"_Puck_ and I have been friends since our sophomore year of high school. We started off as the bully and the victim, but look at us now..."

Puck grinned and nodded. "Best friends with benefits."

I felt my eyes widen. "What?"

"Puck, shut up," Kurt hissed. He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. "He's just joking. Puck's humor is very immature and inappropriate, but you'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure I want to," I mumbled. Kurt smiled.

"Puck and I were talking about pizza and now I must have a slice before I eat the sidewalk. Do you want to grab a bite?" he asked me, looking hopeful yet ready for rejection.

I nodded but then eyed Puck. "Is he invited?"

Kurt looked over his shoulder, as if he'd forgotten that he was there. "Oh, no. Puck has a life to get to. If you call sleeping with random girls a life."

Puck smirked. "It's the best life. I'd say you should try it sometime, but vaginas make you sick."

"Vaginas make me just as sick as seeing a flesh wound. I think it's perfectly normal to be grossed out by something you don't want," Kurt responded, shuttering a bit over the mental images that were most likely the for-front in his mind.

"Whatever, dude. You're just missing out on the wonderful things God blesses us with," Puck said back, getting ready to leave.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes and waved him goodbye, immediately turning his attention to me. "So, pizza?"

"Right."

-:-

We were back at my apartment, which was weird because I hadn't expected us to end up in a place where there were four walls and a lock and a bed and alcohol.

It shouldn't have been so weird, but it was. I wanted to be nice and gentleman-like and insisted in watching a movie or grabbing some beers. Kurt objected to both those things, throwing in an irrelevant reason to subside my persistence. I even suggested that we go out and take a walk, but he mumbled something about not being a dog and looked at every single thing in my apartment. He scrutinized the photos and the albums and the random receipts I hadn't thrown away. He smiled at the piggy-bank I had on a high shelf. I wasn't even sure why I had it, but it must've been for a good reason...or no reason at all.

I managed to get myself a beer as I bit my lip nervously, and he asked me if I had wine or something that didn't taste bad. Through a haze I got him a glass of red wine and before I knew it, all my beer was gone and the bottle of wine was empty on the carpet and Kurt and I were stumbling down the hallway, our lips attacking every inch of flesh that made it's way out of clothes. His breath was really warm against my shoulder as I pushed open my bedroom door and kicked a shoe off into the abyss of darkness. The second shoe came off and then my belt was being undone and Kurt was helping. I realized then that he had more clothes on than I did, and it made me angry. I forgot about myself and grabbed at his shirt, ignoring his hissing comments about being careful. I wanted him naked. He helped me, though, and took the rest of his clothes off, leaving him completely naked except for the black socks.

I laughed. How could I not?

He simply glared and crossed his arms. I tried to mute my girlish giggles as I pulled my jeans off.

"You're drunk, Blaine," he stated as he helped me. I watched him as he stumbled over my pants once they hit the floor. He caught himself, only to stumble again, but on nothing.

"I'm buzzed. _You'r_e drunk," I replied.

He scoffed and climbed onto my bed. I watched him, my eyes trying not to stay on his bare ass. At this point, he realized he was wearing socks. He stared at them, dumbfounded as to what they wore before he laughed nervously and took them off.

"Why didn't you tell me I still had my socks on?" he asked, humor coating his voice.

I shrugged. "You were kinda rocking them."

He rolled his eyes and reached for me, his hand grabbing the back of my neck and pulling me forward. I landed on the bed, my hands and knees pressing against the blue comforter as his mouth find mine. I liked this side of Kurt - the drunk side. Sure, he still had that "better than you" attitude, but he was at ease and completely comfortable with himself. The sober Kurt would never have gotten butt naked with just socks on. Hell, I don't think he'd ever be caught dead with just socks on, even fully dressed. He was happy, which was a rarity to see and I really wanted to enjoy every moment of him.

Kurt and I hadn't reached this point, though. The "sleeping together" point. Mostly lots of hand-jobs and foreplay; pathetic, sexual frustration inducing, blue-balls type of things. But now, we were about to embark on the "final" stage of sleeping with another. And truthfully, I was glad that it was here. Sure, Kurt was drunk, but he wasn't scared or depressed. He was willing and actually wanted this. I could tell by the way he reached for my cock in the middle of me transitioning to a better spot on the bed.

I smiled as he sucked my neck and rubbed me at the same, trying to figure out if I wanted to laugh or moan or cough. Too much was going on, but what I knew was that I enjoyed every single second of it. He grabbed my right hand with his left and put it on his budding hard on. I gasped at the contact, not expecting for him to be so forceful and leading. I was caught my surprise when he started giggling against my shoulder. His hand slipped from my dick and he fell back onto the bed, his legs slightly rising so his knees were starting to press against his chest as he laughed.

"What's so funny?" I asked, laughing with him.

He only laughed harder then, tears starting to slip from his closed eyes and the fit of giggles overtook him.

"What?" I asked again, moving so I was laying beside him. I rested my head in my left hand as I wiped away his tears with my other.

He took a deep breath. "You're so cute."

"Wait...what?"

He sat up, his eyes pink and wet. He wiped at them, and smiled at me. "You act like you're such a prude who's romantic and stuff. You're all skittish like a cat when I make you touch me. We both know that you're probably the worlds biggest horn-dog."

I shrugged. "I'm not skittish. I just wasn't prepared for you to force my hand into your dick. Sue me."

He rolled his eyes and abruptly kissed me, causing me to fall onto my back as he saddled me, his dick on my stomach as his hands found their way into my hair. I lifted my head up to kiss him back, but his tongue found it's way into my mouth and my hips went up and I groaned when he did. He pulled back from my lips, his eyes hazy and so blue as he looked into mine.

"Blaine, I need you," he said, his voice somewhat sad. I nodded and brought my lips back to his, my hands falling behind his back as I carefully rolled him over. His hands found their way into my hair again, and something told me he liked to tousle my curls. He stopped grabbing them long enough to assist me in taking off my boxers.

"Flip over," I whispered to him. He nodded and complied, and I jumped off the bed long enough to fetch a condom and some lube. He watched me as I ripped the foil and took out the rubber, his eyes on mine while I rolled it onto my dick.

"You're nervous," he stated. I smiled and went over to him.

"Wrong," I leaned down and kissed him, "I'm excited."

He smiled and I crawled behind him. He didn't even need me to tell him what to do, he was already on his knees, his body waiting for me. I squeezed the clear liquid onto my palm and rubbed it on myself before I put some on him. It took a minute or two, but eventually I was in him and moving. He moaned and his hands clenched the bedsheets. A few times he gasped and I stopped, scared that I had hurt him.

"Don't stop," he would say breathlessly. I'd nod and continue, my hips moving. I palmed his dick with my right hand and he moaned louder. Together we worked until we both reached our climax. I think he was stuck between fooling around and sleeping, and eventually we both did the latter and laid in my bed, our bodies tangled together as sleep found us.

The next morning, Kurt was vomiting in the bathroom down the hall. I wasn't sure if it was because of his dry-heaving, but I woke up to the noise. It was oddly loud, but both the bedroom and bathroom doors were open. I found my boxers and put them on before I made my way down the hall, yawning then cringing as I got closer to the bathroom.

"Kurt?" I asked, thankful that I hadn't caught the scent of him. Yet.

"I'm fine, just sick," he replied, moaning once more before vomiting.

I felt bad. "I probably shouldn't have encouraged you to drink last night." He was underage after all, not that I really cared about that.

"Are you kidding?" he asked, the sound of the toilet flushing. A few seconds later he appeared, wearing my navy robe and wiping at his mouth. "Last night was amazing."

"Really?" I asked, an eyebrow raising.

He smiled. "Really. It's not often I have nights like that."

"Nights like what?"

He blushed. "Romantic nights. Fun nights. Those nights where you just live." I was about to reply, saying how sweet he was, but he grabbed his stomach and disappeared into the bathroom and the awful noise returned.

"I'm going to make breakfast," I called out to him. Without a response I made my way to the kitchen and prepared a meal that I hoped I wouldn't burn.

I wasn't a professional cook or anything; takeout and fastfood were the greatest gift to me. But I could make pretty awesome scrambled eggs, plus I always made the toast super perfect. It was a simple breakfast, but it was all that I had and all that I could make. I wanted to leave a good impression on Kurt, but by the look of him retreating from the bathroom told me that he wasn't really in the mood to judge or score.

"Feeling better?" I asked as I filled a plate with scrambled eggs.

"Not really, but maybe food will help."

_Or make it worse,_ I mentally added.

"Mmm, toast. My favorite." He grabbed a slice and took a bite, his nose scrunching up a little bit. I smiled and shook my head before I started to eat my own.

And then, because God hates me or something, there was a knock at the door. Both Kurt and I snapped our heads to the direction of the noise and I unwilling went to the door. Looking through the peephole, I sighed and unlocked the door, opening it quickly.

"What do you want, Dee?" I asked.

David narrowed his eyes. "Good morning to you, too."

I rolled my eyes and let him in. "I have a friend over," I whispered to him as I made my way back to the kitchen.

"Really?" he questioned. Kurt looked up at us and smiled politely.

"Kurt, this is David. David, Kurt." I immediately went back to eating my breakfast.

"Hey," David greeted. Kurt waved and used the same hand to grab his glass of orange juice.

"What are you doing here?" I asked David, trying to be as nice as possible.

"I was worried. Last night you sort of bugged out on us and hid in your room," he stated, snagging my second piece of toast.

"I'm fine. I just had to deal with things on my own." I could feel Kurt's eyes on me, but I kept them mine down at my plate.

With a mouth full of bread, David spoke, "I know. Well, Wes knows and I had to agree with him. And by the looks of this morning, I'd say you've figured your shit out?"

"He has," Kurt answered. I looked up, noticing Kurt's infamous bitch face on as he stared at David.

David eyed Kurt. His face was expressionless. "That's good, because I wouldn't want him to have any more pain and drama."

"Are you talking about me?" Kurt asked, his eyebrow raising.

David shrugged. "Well, you did get him fired."

"David! Shut up!" I hissed.

Kurt only smiled. "Actually, I did not get him fired. I'm just as much as a victim as he is."

"So he didn't tell your dad," he said to me.

I nodded. "We're both thinking that it was Sam."

"Your ex?"

"The very same," I sighed.

"But why would he do something like that?" David asked, sounding nearly as confused as I was feeling.

"No clue, Dee. But we're just going to push it aside. All right?"

He nodded. "Right." The three of us took bites of our toasts, the crunching noise being all that was heard. David's eyes flashed to Kurt and then to me and then back to Kurt.

"So...are you two, like...a thing?" he asked.

I shrugged and looked at Kurt. "Are we a thing?"

He pursed his lips. "I'd prefer boyfriend over thing, but yes, we are."

"I don't remember agreeing to that," I joked.

He smirked. "Too bad."

"Cute overload. I'm going to get out of here before I vomit rainbows," David said, pulling away from the counter.

"Don't say vomit," Kurt groaned. I smiled at him and got him some Tylenol, nodding a goodbye to David all the meanwhile.

-:-

Kurt and I had been together nearly a month. We didn't fight. There was no drama. We were happy and in love, which might have been very childish, but I enjoyed it.

I thought that for once I was in the perfect situation in my life.

I was wrong.

Things started to go downhill when Kurt was late getting out of work. It was usual for him to be late, but when I saw him come out twenty minutes later with a handsome guy, casually laughing, I flipped. Of course, I didn't storm out of the car and punch the guys' lights out, but it was obvious that I wasn't happy. Kurt hugged him and they separated. Still smiling, he got into my car.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"A co-worker. He's new. Really nice guy," Kurt replied, a sigh in his voice. When I didn't start the car he looked at me. "What?"

"I don't want you working there anymore," I whispered.

"It's my job, Blaine."

"I don't like it."

"I don't care."

"Please."

He let out a deep breath. "Are you going to take me home or are we going to sit here forever?"

Without saying anything, I started the car and took him to his place. I was supposed to go in with him - we had planned a movie night - but he told me not to bother.

That was the beginning of our breakup.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** I wholly believe that none of you reacted to "rapture" the way you reacted to the end of chapter ten. It makes me lulz. And I got to be a troll in review replies, so I'm happy about that.

I was putting off writing this chapter, mostly because of the angst and drama and the fact that there's only one chapter left. Ugh, my creys.

Also note that I wrote this during my "i'll sleep when i'm dead" week. So things are really random and thrown together like the rest of this fic, so it'll fit in.

* * *

I didn't understand what was happening. Kurt and I were falling a part, Wes and David simply disappeared off my radar and I was in my bed more than I should have been. I was confused. What was going on? Why were things falling to shit?

Even though I was being smothered by my bed sheets and comforter, I could still hear the obnoxious ringing from my cellphone in the living room. It was sitting on my coffee table, not having been picked up since Monday. It was Wednesday now, and I had only gotten up to use to the bathroom. I was hungry, but I didn't really care about eating. I only cared about silencing my phone with telekinesis powers that I did not posses. Eventually the ringing would stop and I'd sit in silence, only having my breathing to help me concentrate on anything but. And then my phone would ring again, and I'd wonder where my ringtone went. It was lame, but I had 'Like a G6' playing each time I got a phone call.

Suddenly remembering that, I sat up and pulled my bed covers away from me and headed to the living room. I picked up the iPhone on the table, immediately realizing that it was Kurt's. The caller ID read: Finn.

_He must have forgot it,_ I mentally said, answering it.

"Kurt, what the hell, man. I've been calling you for years," a voice said, full of panic and anger.

"This isn't Kurt," I said, my throat dry.

His tone lightened then. "Oh, sorry. I must've called the wrong number."

"Uh, this is Kurt's phone actually," I said back, taking a seat on the couch as I closed my eyes. I was tired.

"Oh. Is he there or something? Who is this?"

I sighed. "This is Blaine, and no, he's not here. He probably forgot his phone was here or something."

"Who?" he asked.

My eyes opened. "Blaine. Anderson. He...didn't mention me?"

"Not that I know of. Are you two friends or something?"

Yeah. Boyfriends. Sort of. "Or something," I replied, sighing louder and closing my eyes again. I needed to get back to my bed.

"Do you know where he is? I tried Puck but he didn't know."

"Did you try his work?"

He laughed. "Kurt doesn't work. He's in school."

"No, he's not. He doesn't go to school," I replied, realizing that I just put my foot in my mouth again.

"He does...Why wouldn't he?" I could tell he was starting to panic again.

"Look, I'm sure Kurt will pop around sometime once he realizes he forgot his phone." Yeah, two days ago. "I'll let him know you called."

"Wait-"

"Bye."

Beep.

Yeah, the only safe for me in the universe was my bed.

A few hours later I was being woken up out of my fortress of solitude (or should I say mattress of solitude) by the sound of the doorbell. I didn't even know that it worked. I got out of my bed, checked the clock to see that it was late in the afternoon. My mouth tasted gross and my jaw hurt. I really hated the aftermath of naps; you were always left feeling dirty and groggy. I ignored all that and opened the door.

"I left my phone," Kurt said quickly.

I blinked. "Like, two days ago."

"Can I have it?"

I nodded and walked over to the coffee table and scooped up his phone.

"We should talk," he said to me when I handed it to him. I moved to the side and invited him in, which he hesitantly did. We wandered to the couch and sat farthest from each other, the only sound heard was our breathing.

"Say something," I spoke out, my hands starting to shake. This was it. It was all going to end here.

"I can't," he replied, his voice hushed and shaky.

"If you're going to break up with me, then do it."

His eyes flashed to me, they were wide and full of hurt. "Who said I was going to breakup with you?"

"Isn't this how it happens? We ignore each other and fight? This is the end, isn't it?"

"Do you really have such low hope for us?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. I just know when things aren't working...and this isn't working, Kurt. We've hardly been together for a long time and now it's gone to shit."

"Blaine, this is a relationship. We're going to fight. We're going to have a bit of a falling out. But what are we if we give up?"

I didn't answer him. I didn't have anything to say. I didn't know what I wanted to say.

He turned his attention fully to me, but I looked away.

"Why do you want this to fail? Do you not want to be with me?"

I snapped my eyes to him then. "Of course I do. I love you, Kurt. God, I do. I just don't want..." I couldn't continue. I wasn't ready to face that.

"You're scared," Kurt stated then, light in his eyes. "It explains everything. You were paranoid that we'd end up like this and we have, so now you've given up because you're a coward."

"Of course I'm scared," I muttered. I glared at him and threw my hands up. "I'm fucking terrified."

"Why? What's to be scared of?"

"Everything."

"You're insane, Blaine. Of course this is scary, but it's real and it's wonderful and you're willing to throw all that away just because you're afraid that something will go wrong?" He looked away from me and smiled without humor to himself. "Tell me about Sam. What happened between you two?"

"Same as us. I got scared. So I ran, from him, from the relationship, even town."

"Why?"

I shook my head. "We were sixteen. I hadn't even come out but he was there waiting for me. It was amazing, first love and all that. But the hatred from everyone...It was awful, Kurt. I still have nightmares about it. I couldn't handle it anymore so I hooked up with a few girls. I told everyone that I had been on some drugs and went a little nuts and made poor decisions. Sam was left reeling, though. He had to deal with the back-lash, he had to deal with the homophobes."

"So you gave up on him," Kurt stated.

I nodded. "I've always been a coward, Kurt. And what's worse was that I loved him. God, I did. I didn't see anyone else like I saw him. And it killed me to do that to him. I watched him get his ass kicked and all I did was make-out with a girl I was using as a beard. It was awful."

"Did you ever get beat up?" he asked.

"Didn't you?"

He was quiet for a moment, which was equivalent to a yes.

"I just don't understand. You were scared of coming out, but that was high school. What about after? You can't honestly tell me that Sam was the only person you've ever been with."

"There's been others, but nothing more than hook-ups." I looked at Kurt. "I'm a fucked up person, but I wouldn't be human otherwise."

"So what? Did you plan on living your life alone?"

"I guess. I'm usually better off that way."

"No, you're not. Blaine, look at you. Look at how you live. You're like a zombie! You wake up and go to work. Over and over again. And when you don't work you just sit at home and mope about life. You're twenty-six years old. You really need to grow up."

He got up off the couch and headed for the door. I felt my heart pound.

"Kurt, wait!" I got up after him, reaching for his arm before he could get a hold of the doorknob.

He turned, his eyes wet. "Are you going to fight for me, Blaine? Make sure that I don't run from you the way you ran from Sam and the rest of your fears?"

"Are you going to let me?" I asked. "I love you, Kurt. I haven't loved anyone since Sam and I'm terrified that it'll end the same way. But I'm not going to force you to be with me."

"So this is all on me now, is it?" he replied. "I get the final vote?"

"Do you want to be with me? I sure as fuck want to be with you, but do you want me?"

A tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped at it with his sleeve. "I love you," he sobbed. "I don't know why. Maybe it's because when you look at me you're not angry or resentful. You don't hate me. It's like you've met me for the first time and you're willing to give me a chance."

"A chance for what?" I asked him, fighting back my own tears.

"A chance at life. You're the only person who truly cares about me. Think about Vegas? We hardly did anything but you still gave me the money. The flash mob? Mercedes? No one has put an effort in my happiness in years." He took a deep breath and collected himself, ridding himself of tears and shaky breaths. "I can't do this if you're so willing to give up. I love you, but I have the right to be selfish and I'm not going to put myself in a situation where you'll break my heart."

I laughed. "Haven't I already? Look at us, Kurt. We're so fucked up. I paid to fuck you. Ten fucking thousand dollars. That's not pocket change. That's fucking legit money and I just threw it to you like it was nothing."

"But I took it like it was nothing," he replied. "That part...the money and the sex and Vegas, there's something really wrong there but it happened and it was real and it was the best time of my life."

I felt his hand find mine and he closed the distance with his body, his other hand moving around my waist. His blue eyes looked into mine, flickering back and forth as he tried to take my entire face in.

"Look at us now. Two strangers, totally fucked up in the head, sure, but two strangers who fell in love," he said to me.

"Two strangers in love who are on the brink of ending everything," I added. "Kurt, I just..."

"Don't give me that, Blaine. Don't deny this. Don't pretend that you don't want it. You love me and I love you and I just need to know if you want this."

I looked at him, his eyes glued to mine with a ferocity I had never seen before. He was _fighting_ for me, not the other way around. No one had ever done that before; not Sam, not my parents, not Tom or Wes or David. No one ever stood in front of me like Kurt and threw themselves out there like that. He was being honest and he was hurting but he was begging for me to not give up on us. Giving up was easy to do. I did it every day and it was all I knew. I never finished the things I started, at least not without being forced into it. I didn't like confrontation, but I wasn't afraid to speak my mine. I didn't like thinking about the future, but I dreaded thinking about the past. I was stuck in a never ending loop hole of living the same day over and over again. It was all a ritual: wake up, go to work, come home and do it all over again. I'd fuck a random guy here and there and never stick around to see what was there for me.

"I'm afraid, Kurt," I finally admitted, my eyes watering.

He frowend. "Of what?"

"Of this not working out. I don't know if I can sit down and be happy and make plans for a future. I don't know if I'm the type of guy who can live in the moment and yet prepare for the next day. I...don't know if I can handle all this commitment and then end up never having it. I can't handle the heart break, Kurt. I've seen it. I see the pain it causes and I'm so fucking scared."

By this time, I was crying. Tears spilled over quickly, warm drops of salted liquid falling off my cheeks and landing into the emptiness below me. Kurt watched them, his face scared and unsure but he understood. He pulled me into him, his arms wrapping around my neck as I put mine around his back, squeezing him tightly against me as I cried into his shoulder.

"Shh," he hushed in my ear. "I promise you. We're not your parents, Blaine. This won't end in disaster or heartbreak. We're different. We're not like the rest."

"How do you know?" I asked, my voice muffled from both my sobs and his shoulder, but he still understood me.

"Because we will be. We'll choose not to let things get the better of us. We'll choose to talk about how we feel and we'll choose to talk about our problems. Communication, Blaine. And love. That's all that matters." He pulled away and put his hands on either side of my face. Through my blurry eyes I saw him smile at me before he pressed his lips against mine. "We'll make this work. Trust me."

I nodded against his forehead, sniffling as I tried to suppress my tears. "I do. I always have."

"We're going to do this, all right," he stated. "We'll make this be the best thing that we could ever have."

I nodded once more and smiled. He grinned back and kissed me again before he pulled away.

"I have to go now, but we'll meet up later," he said, his hand finding the door knob again.

"Where?" I asked, wiping at my face.

"My parents' place. You're going to introduce yourself and they're going to love you and we'll be happy."

"You sound so sure," I replied.

He smiled and laughed. "I am. Trust me, Blaine."

"I do," I repeated.

"I love you," he said as he opened the door.

"I love you," I said back, watching him leave.

The door shut with a click and I took a deep breath.

We were doing this.

I could do this.

I _would_ do this.

-:-

Kurt's family lived in Lima, which was unfamiliar to me. I had been to many places in Ohio, but I'd always avoided this town for some unknown reason. It was small and everything seemed "right around the corner", which was unusual from the city. This was probably a town where kids grew up together and where people always knew what was happening to their neighbors, even if said neighbors never told them. I had always wanted to live that kind of life, the one where you always had a second mom a few blocks away or where you'd meet up with your high school sweetheart and would be really happy for each other, no matter how much you missed them.

I wondered how keen Kurt would be to move back. Or maybe we could just move to another town where we could be alone and have a family and be happy and in love. But that was me going in over my head. Kurt liked the city; I could tell by his admiration for Las Vegas. And truthfully, the city was my home. I probably wouldn't survive a day without traffic hour or some type of crime scene from my window.

I pulled up to the house that Kurt had given me directions for. There were three other vehicles in the driveway and I fixed my collar in the rear-view mirror. Then I noticed I had a curl that was just sticking out in the wrong direction and it refused to do anything I wanted it to do. Frustrated, I gave up and left my car and crossed the grass to the front door. Before I could try to fix the curl one last time before I knocked, it opened and Kurt was standing on the other side, a grin on his face.

"Hi," he greeted.

"Hi," I mimicked. He leaned across the threshold and kissed me, then pulled away and blushed. His eyes roamed over me and when he caught site of the rogue curl he giggled. His hand flew out and he tried to tame it, but to no prevail.

"Leave it," I said. He nodded and motioned for me to come in.

Inside, his hand found mine and he lead me down the hall. I could hear the sounds of people talking happily, a female laugh over shadowing the rest. I tried to take in the things around the house; photographs of Kurt and his family - the family from the restaurant. There was a photo of Kurt and the taller guy, who I guessed was Finn, in red graduation gowns and caps. They had each other in an embrace; a candid photo. But then I took in the other photos of him and Finn. They were further and further apart from each other, and when they were standing together it seemed forced and tense. I wondered about that but didn't get a chance to ask questions as Kurt took me to where the voices were.

"Dad, Carole, Finn, Quinn; this is Blaine," he said quickly. I hadn't even entered the kitchen when he introduced me, so when I finally saw the group they were staring at me as if I was an alien.

Kurt's elbow bumped into my side and I looked at him. His eyes flashed to his father and then back at me just as quick.

"Oh, right." I cleared my throat and extended my arm. His father reached out and took my hand in his and gave it a shake. "Hello, sir."

"Burt," he replied, releasing my hand. "This is my wife Carole."

I shook hands with the woman beside him, her smile making me feel a bit more relaxed - at least she didn't wanted to kill me. Yet.

"Finn," the taller guy followed, giving my hand a shake as well. "This is my fiancée, Quinn."

"Nice to meet you," the blonde said, using her free hand to greet me as well. The other was on her stomach, which was plump with a baby.

"Kurt's told me all about you guys," I said to them. I felt Kurt's hand make it's way back into mine and he gave it a squeeze.

His dad stood up straight and put a towel on the counter. "I wish I could say the same."

I felt my eyebrows rise. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Kurt's left us in the dark on this. He just barely mentioned you about three hours ago, telling us to make a dinner for a special guest."

I looked at Kurt, my eyes narrowed. But he was looking at his dad, glaring.

"Why don't we all go sit down?" Kurt's step-mother began. "Dinner is just about done."

"Great idea," Kurt said, attitude-y and bitchy. He tugged at my hand and led me out of the kitchen and into a dining room. Burt had been following and he took a seat at the head of the table. Kurt sat beside him and pulled me down to the chair next to him. Carole and the others joined us, carrying dishes of food. There was a minute of silence as everyone got a plate and filled it with their food.

"Grace?" Quinn suggested. Finn was just about to put a fork of roast in his mouth but he stopped and put it down. He picked Quinn's hand up and then Burt's. Burt reached out for Kurt's, who reluctantly sighed and took it. Carole reached out for mine and I placed my palm in hers, smiling back at her grin. I watched as the table shut their eyes - all but Kurt - and shut my own, listening to Quinn thank God. I could feel Kurt's knee bounce against mine, and I realized that out of our whole time together I had never once asked him about religion. My mom was a Christian, as was Tom and Lucy, too. But I was never given a denomination, probably under my father's wishes. He was what he liked to call a "freelance Catholic", whatever that was.

"Amen," Quinn finished. All of us joined in and said it, even Kurt. Immediately we all picked up our forks and knives and began to eat.

"What do you do for a living, Blaine?" Burt asked.

"I'm unemployed at the moment," I replied.

"Why is that?"

"My father fired me."

His eyebrow raised. "Rather harsh for a man to do to his own son. I wonder why he did that."

"A misunderstanding," Kurt butted in. His eyes snapped to his dad. "Can we not do the interrogation, thing, please?"

"Then why'd you bring him over?" Finn asked.

Kurt looked at him but didn't answer.

"Kurt's right. Blaine's already his boyfriend and they're adults," Carole said, taking a sip of wine.

Quinn nodded. "Plus I'd rather not have negative energy around the baby."

"How far along are you?" I asked her. She smiled and I saw her hand go to her belly.

"Five months," she replied, looking at Finn lovingly.

"Congratulations," I said.

She smiled again, all white teeth and light. "Thank you. What about you?"

"Excuse me?" I questioned back, laughing a bit.

"Sorry, wrong wording," she started. "How long have you and Kurt been together?"

"About a month," he said for me. His shoulders were tense and he was constantly making eye contact with Finn, glaring at him.

"How come you're only mentioning him now?" Finn asked, staring back at Kurt.

"Because he and I have been trying to figure some stuff out."

"I talked to him today, you know," Finn threw out.

Kurt's eyes widened and he looked at me. "Really?"

I nodded and swallowed my food. "Yeah, he was looking for you. I told him to try Puck's or your work-"

Chaos broke out. Forks dropped. Carole spilled her wine. Burt looked like he wanted to shoot something, or someone.

"Puck? _Work?_ Kurt, you're supposed to be at Ohio State," Burt growled.

Kurt took a deep breath. "I haven't been a hundred percent truthful."

Burt's hands curled into fists on the table. "Well you're going to start. Now."

I looked up at Finn. He was smiling.


	12. Chapter 12

Everyone was staring at Kurt as they waited for him to speak. His eyes were on his plate, mine on Finn. I didn't have to right to accuse him of anything, but I knew that something was very suspicious about the way he was acting and putting Kurt into this type of situation. From what Kurt had told me about Finn, he was sweet and caring and a little oblivious. Finn was supposed to have a big heart and he was supposed to be supportive; why was he being anything but that now?

"Well?" Burt pushed, his eyes glued on his son.

Kurt sighed and looked at his father. "I haven't been going to school. I never even applied to Ohio State like I told you I did."

Burt opened his mouth but closed it and shook his head. "I don't even know what to say."

Carole reached out towards Kurt and I leaned back in my chair, almost as if I'd just disappear completely. "Sweetie, why did you lie?"

"Because we couldn't afford it, Carole. Me going to college? We didn't have the money at the time."

"I thought you said that you'd gotten a loan?" Burt butted in.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "And when would I have that paid off, Dad? College loans are the worst. I already owe you guys so much for Dalton and I figured that if I had a job then I could just pay you guys back sooner rather than later."

"Kurt, we told you don't have to pay us back," Carole stated, her hand finding Kurt's. He looked at her and shook his head.

"Where are you living, Kurt? With Puck?" Burt asked.

"Yes. Noah's been extremely generous. He and I share an apartment and we work together and even though it's not really an ideal situation, I'm dealing."

"Where are you working?" Quinn asked, intrigued at the scene playing out in front of her.

Kurt didn't respond. He only looked down and sniffled a bit. I put my hand on his knee and squeezed it. He looked up, eyes wet and wide with fright.

"Tell them," he said to me. "Please."

"You have to do it," I whispered.

He shook his head. "Please."

I looked away from him and met his father's eyes. They were practically the same color, except his blue was more dull and tired.

"Have you ever heard of Fire and Ice?" I asked.

"Never," he replied.

I blinked and sighed. "It's a club."

"And?"

"It's a...strip club..."

Silence. Long, horrible, tense and suffocating silence. I could feel Kurt gripping onto my hand with dear life as we waited for a response.

"You're a stripper, Kurt?" Carole asked, her voice shocked but not disgusted.

"Yeah. I make about two-hundred a night, minus the tips. I've applied to other places, anywhere but strip-clubs, but no one is hiring and..." Burt stopped him with the sound of his throat clearing.

"Didn't you say you came into money recently?" he asked.

Kurt blinked and he squeezed my hand again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The end of last month. You came into the shop with a brand new car. You said Grandma sent you money, but I called her and she said she didn't. I let it slide because you're a big boy, but where'd you get the money for a new car, because I sure as hell know that you didn't get it using stripper money."

"I gave it to him," I stuttered. Burt's eyes snapped to me. "Kurt told me he was having money problems and I gave him the money."

"How much?"

"Ten grand."

"You're lying!" Finn butted in.

"No, I'm not," I said, feeling very confused. "I gave Kurt that amount."

"Not that! _Why_ you gave him the money."

"Shut up, Finn," Kurt hissed.

"What's going on, boys?" Carole asked.

"Nothing," Kurt replied. "I think Blaine and I are going to go."

"I disagree," said Burt. "All of you are going to come clean. No more lies. What's going on?"

"I'm not going to tell you," Kurt said to his father. "Not now and not ever. I'm an adult. I live on my own and I sure as hell don't need any of you to boss me around and judge me. I've had enough of that my entire life."

"If you're putting yourself in danger I'm going to stop you," his father stated. "You're still my son and whether you like it or not, you're going to tell me everything."

"Tell them," I whispered to Kurt.

"Blaine..." he began, pain in his voice and panic in his eyes. "I can't."

"But you _have_ to."

"Then I want to do it alone. Could everyone excuse me and my parents, please."

Quinn got up quickly, tugging at Finn to do the same. I gave Kurt another squeeze and kissed his forehead before I got up. I hated to leave him alone, but I wasn't going to push him anymore. I stared at Finn's back as he walked out of the dining room. We ended up in the living room and I took a seat on the couch. Finn took a seat in the recliner and Quinn muttered something about the bathroom and left. I stared at the carpet and Finn stared at me. My palms began to sweat as he continued to look.

"What are you doing?" he asked me. I looked up and questioned him silently. "You're a sick fuck, you know that?"

"I'm very aware of who I am, but what are you talking about?"

"You don't think I know?" he asked, seeming overly disgusted.

"Know what?" I hissed.

"Vegas! I know what happened in Vegas!"

I narrowed my eyes. "Nothing-"

"Don't give me that. Sam told me everything."

"Sam? Evans?"

He nodded. "How old are you, Blaine? Thirty?"

"Twenty-six," I replied in a harsh tone.

"My brother just barely turned twenty-one and you're acting like he's five years older than you. You do realize that Kurt's never been in a relationship before, right? He'd probably never even had sex with a guy until you forced him to it."

"I did not force him to do anything he didn't want to do. Don't even play that card."

"What's your game? What is that you want from Kurt?"

I shook my head. "I don't want anything from Kurt. He and I are in a relationship. That's it."

"Do you love him?" he asked me then.

"Of course I do."

He smiled. "You love Sam?"

"_Loved._ Not anymore. And I don't understand how in the world you and Sam are connected, but if he has any problems he should say them to my face. It's so despicable that he'd go to my father and tell him."

"It was my idea," he stated.

"What?"

"Kurt doesn't love you. I hope you know this."

I glared. "Shut up."

"Your money is all he wants. You think he actually loves you?"

"He does love me!" I spat back.

"He's playing you!" Finn shouted back.

I felt my hands ball into fists at my sides and my jaw clench.

"Take it back," I said through my teeth.

"I'm just trying to let you know before you do something stupid...before _he_ does something stupid."

"Why the fuck do you care? _Honestly?_ Obviously you and Kurt aren't that close. What does it matter what he and I do? It's not your business."

He laughed. "It is my business. He's my brother. We're family."

"Finn!" Kurt hissed. He stampeded into the living room, his hands on his hips. Carole and Burt were ensue, both of them looking just as confused as I felt. "What do you know?"

Finn glared at me one last time as he pulled himself onto his feet.

"He knows about Vegas," I stated.

"Good, then we're all on the same page," Kurt sighed.

I looked up at him. "You told them?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

I met the eyes of Burt Hummel and boy oh boy it was awkward.

"You met my son at a strip club?" Burt asked me.

I put my face into my hands and groaned a bit, causing the group to chuckle. Except for Finn, but right now I was too busy not punching him.

"Dad, Mom, can you go away for a bit? I need to talk to Finn," Kurt said. I heard them all agreeing and the sound of feet walking against the carpet. I still had my face hiding in my hands and didn't take them out until I felt Kurt's arm go around my waist. I pulled my hands away and met his eyes. He grinned and then looked at Finn, who was back in the recliner and staring at us.

"How'd you find out?" Kurt asked.

"Blaine's old boyfriend," he answered.

Kurt nodded. "I knew Sam was behind this."

"I don't think it was just Sam, though," I responded. "We were very careful of the things we said to him. How could he have found out the exact details?"

Kurt looked at Finn, and then I looked. He only shrugged. Then it dawned on me. Sam didn't know the exact details of what happened in Vegas, but someone else did...make that _two_ someones.

"Excuse me," I said then, quickly getting off the couch. I avoided eye contact with the two, mostly because I knew they'd be suspicious. I made my way down the hall and stepped out the front door, making sure I was a good distance from the house until I pulled out my cell phone.

"You're alive!" David answered, his voice full of sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I am. But I can't say the same for you or your bestest friend Wes."

"What are you talking about?" he asked with a sigh.

"Sam told my dad. He also told Kurt's brother, but the funny thing is there's no way Sam could have known exactly what happened...unless some one else had told him. I willingly let you and Wes in on what happened. And as my best friends, I expected you guys to keep your mouth shut. You want to tell me why I shouldn't come over and punch you both in the face?"

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" David exclaimed.

"Wes?"

"I wouldn't know. He and I, well, we haven't been talking as much as we used to. I think something's up."

"What do you mean?" I asked, completely taken aback.

"He's talking to Tiffany again, and something tells me that things aren't going well. He didn't show up for work today, or yesterday. I figured he was with you maybe, but I saw him at a Starbucks on my way home."

I ran a hand through my hair. I didn't have time to deal with this right now. "Fuck. Um. I'll figure something out..."

"Good luck. He's ignoring his phone. Do you know how much hell I've been through with you two this week? _Maybe_ I have my own problems? _Maybe_ I need my best friends. _Maybe_ I'm having a meltdown."

"Yeah, yeah. Because life must be horrible with your supermodel girlfriend and job and parents who actually give a shit about you," I patronized. "I'll call you later and fix the Wes thing."

"Don't you just need to go back in your bed or something? Mope and shit about your boyfriend."

"Actually, for your information, I'm at his house right now. I'm meeting the 'rents."

"I do not envy you," he scoffed.

"Me either," I replied.

"Well, go get back to them and call me later and we'll both figure out what's happening to Wes."

"Roger that."

I went back inside Kurt's house and made my way to the living room. I came to a slow yield when I heard whispering.

"I don't like him, Kurt. He seems like such an arrogant prick," Finn said.

"You don't get to make a call in this," Kurt hissed back.

"I do! I'm your brother and he's a jerk and you need to find someone better."

"For the past two years you've treated me like a pariah. Now you want to come into my life and tell me who I can and can't love?"

I stepped into the room. "Why is that?" I asked.

The two looked up at me, moving a part from each other. Finn had been standing over Kurt, his arms crossed. Kurt was glaring at the taller man, his finger shoving against Finn's chest. Now the two were on opposite sides of the room, realizing that I had heard what they were saying.

"Why is what?" Kurt asked, fixing his shirt as he tried to diffuse the tension he could find.

"Why are you and Finn like this? Obviously you two were close at some point in your life, but now it's like you hate each other."

"I don't hate Kurt," Finn replied.

"And I don't hate Finn," added Kurt.

I shrugged. "Then what's going on? Why all this animosity towards each other. I know it's none of my business, but going from not having a sibling to having one, I know what that's like. And sure, she's a brat and I want to slap some sense into her sometimes, but I still love my sister and I would hate it if there was something destroying our relationship."

Finn cocked his head to the side. "I didn't know you had a sister."

"There's a lot you don't know about Blaine, Finn," Kurt said as he walked to my side. He put his arm around my waist and smiled at me. "He's a really decent guy, and I think you'd really like him if you weren't so transfixed on making him into a bad guy."

"I suppose so, but it doesn't change the fact that you whore'd yourself out to him," Finn turned his eyes on me, "or that he'd be willing to let you whore yourself out."

Kurt sighed and sat on the couch. I followed him, only because I knew that he just wanted to end this now rather than later. Finn refused to sit, instead he just wandered near the mantel of the fire place and began to fondle whatever objects were there.

"Things haven't been easy for me, Finn," Kurt began, sighing. "Stripping is so below myself, but I do it because it gets me money. And yes, I know, there are other jobs, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not qualified for a decent job."

"You had a chance to go to college," Finn replied.

"It seems that way, but I never did. Dalton had taken all the money this family has had, and I know that's why you have all this resentment towards me. You had to work for that scholarship, and you worked so hard that I thought you were going to break, Finn. You threw everything away just so you could have a future. Rachel...you loved her more than anything, and you let her go so you could make a better life for all of us. Glee Club, friends, me. You gave up everything that meant anything to you just so you could work hard at school and football so you could be someone."

I had no idea. Finn didn't seem like the type of person who would really care about where his life would go. And it was what Kurt what saying, a slight tremor in his hands, that made Finn a hero of mine. It was only one minute previous that I wanted to punch him, and now I wanted to shake his hand.

Kurt's lips tried to make a smile, but they remained in a tight line. "You're amazing, Finn. You've sacrificed so much, and I know I have no right in asking more from you, but please, let this go. Hate me all you want, but don't hate the choices I make or the people I love."

"I don't _hate_ you, Kurt! Fuck. I don't...I'm just..." Kurt's step-brother searched for the words he wanted to say, but none came to him.

"I love you, Finn. You're one of the most important person in my life and I'd really like to fix this." Kurt turned and looked at me. He reached for my hand and pulled it into his lap and turned his eyes back to the man standing. "I'm quitting my job. I'm going to find a real one, finish up saving every cent I make for college and then I'll get a better job and I'll buy you everything you could have ever dreamed of. I'll make all this up to you."

"Really?" I heard myself ask.

Kurt looked back at me and nodded. "You hate my job more than I do."

I smiled back. "I know you probably wouldn't like it, but I'm sure I can give you the money you need."

"Not this time. I want to earn it." Had I been a little less in happy-town, I would have detected that Kurt's tone implied something other than him having a job to get money.

"I don't care about any of that," Finn said then. We looked at him, and he had his hands in his pockets. "I don't care about you trying to make my dreams come true, or Mom's or Dad's. I don't care if you go to college."

"Then what do you care about?" Kurt asked.

"I care if you're happy, Kurt. I didn't resent you because you went to Dalton. I resented you because you gave up."

"I don't understand."

"Karofsky pushed you away, and you let him. And when our parents suggested that you go back to McKinley, even though Karofsky was still bullying, you let them. You came back to McKinley and you let yourself disappear and you just became a body. Sure, I was involved in my thing and I hadn't done anything about it, but you didn't make an effort anymore, Kurt. It's like someone took your soul."

Kurt let out a breathy laugh. "I only ever wanted to make things convenient for others, even if it went against everything that I was."

"You went back to McKinley?" I asked, but then I recalled the graduation picture. Dalton's gowns were more exuberant and bold.

"I did, even though I didn't want to. I was aware that my parents were literally killing themselves trying to make sure they paid tuition in time, and I knew that eventually I had to come back."

"Even though you had a bully who wanted to kill you?" I shook my head. Unbelievable.

"Yes. But I'm alive." He turned his attention back to Finn. "So you hate me for letting myself be pushed around?"

He shrugged. "That, and for not caring anymore. I saw your report cards. It's like when you left Dalton, you left your heart there, too."

"Dalton was my sanctuary; I had friends there and teachers who challenged me and I didn't have to worry about being thrown in dumpsters."

"Boys," Carole said then, stepping into the living room. "Sorry for interrupting, but Quinn's ready to go home."

Finn nodded and started for the doorway, but Kurt asked him to wait. He let go of my hands and stepped over my feet as he made his way to Finn. Before I knew it, he had his arms wrapped around him and the two shared an embrace. It was quick but very meaningful. Kurt pulled away and smiled at his step-brother and Finn nodded before he left the room. Carole raised an eyebrow but followed her son.

Kurt turned back at me and shrugged. "Family."

"Yeah, I've got my own."

He laughed and I stood up. I walked over and pulled him into a hug. My head rested on his shoulder and I inhaled.

"You're short," he stated.

"I know."

"But you're cute."

"I'd say the same about you."

"What should we do now?" asked Kurt.

I shrugged. "I guess I should go. I feel as if I've caused too much family drama for tonight."

"I don't want you to leave."

I stood straight and kissed him. "I'd take you with me, but I think you probably should stay and continue on all these lovely conversations with your loved ones."

"What are you going to do?"

My thoughts flickered back to the phone call I had with David. "Wes is having some problems, and I have to go save the day."

"My hero," he laughed.

"Walk me to my car?"

He nodded and intertwined our hands, our fingers lapping over each other. Outside Finn was backing out of the driveway. Quinn waved to us and I waved back.

"Do you think everything is going to be okay?" he asked me once we made it to the driver's side of my car.

"Of course. Look at us, we're okay."

"We are, aren't we? And just today you looked like everyone you knew had died and you'd lost your razor." His hand came up and cupped my cheek, slightly tapping the smooth skin there.

"Not being with you feels like that." I put my hand over his. "But you really need to work on the whole facial hair thing. Shaving is a pain."

"I'll think about it, but for now, what's next?"

I thought it over for a moment, bringing his hand down from my face and putting it in between us.

"Let's go somewhere. But this time with no terms and rules. Let's just go for us," I said.

"You spoil me, Mr. Anderson," he replied, leaning in to kiss me.

"Someones got to revive the inner diva in you, don't you think?" I kissed him back, pushing him against the car door as my body molded against him. He threw his arms around my neck and I kept my hands glued to his waist. He opened my mouth and wiggled his tongue in and I easily matched his advances.

I heard a door open and I snapped my eyes to the sound, only to see Burt standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a red face. I stopped kissing Kurt and stepped away from him. Kurt looked puzzled until he realized what was cockblocking us.

"I'll see you later," Kurt replied, kissing me once more before he made his way to his dad. I waved goodbye, only receiving a wave back from Kurt. Without much hesitation, I got into my car and drove away.

Now, the last thing I wanted to do was take myself out of a tense atmosphere and throw myself into another. But being Wes' best friend meant that I had an obligation, and I wasn't about to let him down. And luckily for me Wes made me the keeper of his spare key, so when he didn't answer the door I had a way to get in without breaking the door down.

He was in his bed, sleeping, and I wondered why it was that when either he and were depressed we'd find sanctuary in a bed. I snapped on his light and called out his name. He groaned and woke up, his brown eyes finding me.

"What the hell? What are you doing?" he asked, nearly yelling.

"Wes, you're in so much trouble," I said to him.

"I don't care. Go away."

I kicked off my shoes and jumped onto his bed and proceeded to jump until he got so annoyed that he'd wriggle around and I'd "accidentally" trip over his leg and fall on top of him. After a minute or so of wrestling, I had successfully gotten Wes out of his bed.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I was sleeping."

"So you've been playing hooky from life, too? I know why I've been depressed, but why are you?"

He shrugged. "Life just sucks right now. And I'm not depressed, I'm just taking a bit of time to sort things out."

"David would say otherwise," I stated. "Apparently you've been ignoring him."

"That's because he likes to think he controls my life."

"This is about Tiffany?" I questioned, feeling my eyebrow raise.

Wes scrunched his nose. "Yes. And I want to stab myself because of that."

"David hates her, you know. So do I, not that my opinion matters."

"I know. And I hate her, too. But God, _I love her._"

"She's a slut. She cheated on you. And I'm pretty sure she can't even consume a real meal anymore," I said.

"Can we not talk about her? What are you doing here?"

I sighed and sat on his bed. "Why did you tell Sam about what happened in Vegas?"

Wes stiffened and his eyes fell to the ground. "I was mad."

"About what?" I was super pissed at this point, but I knew that lashing out at Wes wouldn't do any good.

"About what you were doing. It wasn't you, and I think you went off the rails and when I ran into Sam at the hotel that one morning, I guess I was just so upset with you that I didn't filter anything."

I nodded and stood up.

"Don't be mad at me, Blaine. I know what I did was fucked up and everything."

"You're my best friend, Wes. You've been there for a lot of rough moments in my life, David too. And I would love to forgive you for this, but not only did you put everything at risk for me, but you did so with Kurt." I pushed my sleeves up to my elbows, only to give me something to do with my hands other than what I actually wanted to do. "Did you know that Sam told Kurt's brother?"

Wes shook his head. Of course not.

"I've had a hectic day. Not only did Kurt and I almost officially break up, he told me some things that I wasn't ready to hear about myself. I met his family, too. A lot of things were revealed tonight, and it really sucks that my best friend would do something so shitty."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I nodded. "I'm going to try and forgive you, Wes. I've made mistakes that have affected you before."

He let out a single laugh. "The taco party."

I nodded. "The taco party. Had I known that it was supposed to be a meat-free shindig, I wouldn't have done it."

"My mom banished you from our house."

"How was I supposed to know that someone would get upset about the fact that tacos had beef in them and would throw them into the swimming pool?"

We both let out a laugh, remembering that summer day when we were fifteen.

"I'll make it up to you," Wes said.

I nodded. "I know."

"It's good to see you not on the brink of suicide," he declared then.

I narrowed my eyes. "I wasn't on the brink of suicide. I was just really sad and miserable."

"I'm guessing that you two are pretty in love then."

I couldn't help but smile then. "Pretty is an understatement. We're beautifully in love."

"And cheesy."

"Like the tacos."

He rolled his eyes. "Like the tacos."

**The End.**

* * *

Dear readers and supporters, thank you. I'm positive that at times we've all been frusrated with this story, and me as well. Remember that time I didn't update for four months? Well, we've made it. It's been long and crazy and just totally random. It's really hard for me to complete things that I've started, but I'm glad I finished this. It was fun, and even though I've been really frustrated with this story, I'm still glad I wrote it. Thank you to all who have stuck around and read and reviewed. Without you wonderful people who I may or may not have tried to hit on in a creepy fashion, I wouldn't have made it this far.

Thank you. It's been fun and I really appreciate all of you.

Long live Klaine!

Also, sorry for the horrible ending. I really, really love tacos.


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